


We Come Alive at Night

by undertannedscenester



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Stripper!Carmilla, all characters play a role though, but not for kinky sex reasons, half a high school au due to flashbacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:55:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 88,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undertannedscenester/pseuds/undertannedscenester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were best friends torn apart by regrettable decisions and unfortunate situations.</p><p>Now they meet again in the most unexpected circumstances. Re: a whirlwind of flashbacks, strip clubs, and angst by the boatload.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Up Here

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify: the start of each chapter is a flashback until the first line break

“I can’t believe you’ve been at this school for all of a week and you’ve somehow managed to land the both of us in detention,” you seethe.

You aren’t sure what pisses you off more: that you’re stuck at school for an hour of absolute boredom or that the dark-haired girl in the desk next to you seems perfectly at ease. Her boots are kicked up on the desk in front of her yet she somehow hasn't gotten scolded by the teacher watching over them at the front of the room.

Carmilla is not at all affected by this statement, her eyes still skimming the pages of her book as she responds flatly, “I’m not the one who nearly blew up the science lab.”

“ _No way_. This is completely your fault. I was trying to be nice and help you. But you seem to care so little about anything that of course you couldn’t spare half a second to make sure you were handing me the right ingredient.”

It’s an eighth grade science class; the middle school barely even has enough components _capable_ of exploding.

“Come on. That little eruption was probably the most exciting thing to happen at this school in a while. And the teacher’s face alone made it worthwhile.”

“You did that on purpose?!”

“Ms. Hollis,” the teacher stuck with the two of you only just notices the conversation going on, “settle down.”

The only answer you get to your accusation is a smirk accompanied by, “You’re hilarious when you’re annoyed, buttercup.”

You nearly scream in frustration. Why would this insufferable girl do something so dangerous just to get a kick out of annoying you? You've never even had a full conversation with this brooding nightmare before. You'd felt bad when you'd seen the new girl doing the lab by herself, but apparently this is what you get for trying to be friendly and accommodating.

“Well, sorry some people have better things to do than sit in detention.”

“Are the other Keebler Elves really so lost without you?”

“You are the biggest…bad person I’ve ever had to deal with it.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started.”

* * *

“I just…I thought things were getting better,” LaFontaine admits miserably, scratching at their short red hair.

You swivel in your computer chair to better face your friend that’s seated on the edge of your bed. “Perry has been a lot better about everything lately. I’m sure she’ll wind up back here worrying about you in no time.”

That doesn’t seem to help as the bio major’s eyes stare off into nothing. “I’d like something to experiment on now.”

“Well, um…”

As much as you want to be there for LaFontaine, you’re not exactly up for handling one of their experiments. The last time had nearly led to half the dorm becoming a toxic waste dump, followed by a riveting hour-long lecture from Perry. You can still remember cringing at the octave Perry's voice had reached in all her fretting, even though it was fairly justified. And you’re sure that LaF certainly isn’t up for that right now.

“How about we watch Harry Potter instead?” you suggest, grabbing LaFontaine’s laptop to start booting up a movie.

“Didn’t you just marathon that last weekend?”

“And so you think I’m suddenly sick of Harry Potter? Or Emma Watson?”

“I don’t know…”

“We can make a drinking game out of it.”

Normally drinking would not have been your go-to suggestion. You don’t even drink all that often, nonetheless prefer people using it as a coping method. But if it got LaFontaine to stay instead of going and finding some test subject than you were down for getting drunk.

“You keep alcohol around?"

“Betty becomes a bit of kleptomaniac when she’s drunk,” you explain about your roommate, noticing the hint of pride in LaF’s voice. “She hefted a bunch of alcohol from some frat party last week citing it as revenge for one of them grabbing her butt.”

“Fair enough.”

“So are we doing this or not?”

It doesn’t take the two of you very long to get a little tipsy. You had found a random Harry Potter drinking game online and it turns out that whoever made it must’ve wanted to get really drunk really fast. Still you both somehow manage to stay mostly sober, and you can tell it’s getting LaF’s mind off their fight with Perry, which is the ultimate goal. They don't even notice you glancing to check on them because they're too immersed in the glow from their laptop.

So you sink a little further into your bed to make yourself more comfortable, knowing LaFontaine isn’t likely to leave and cause scientific mayhem anymore.

Of course since you made herself cozy two seconds later your door is being thrown open.

“Hey, bros,” Kirsch greets as he wanders in.

Normally you secretly kind of like how everyone is comfortable enough with you to just invite themselves in. It's been that way since your freshman year. During the day you pretty much always just leave the door wide open. Normally you also find Kirsch sweet and enjoy his company, except maybe when you're trying to help him study. As much as you like helping people, teaching Kirsch anything academic can be quite the challenge.

This time you can just tell by the goofy grin on his face that this night is about to go in a very different direction.

“Hey, Kirsch,” you greet happily even though you are praying he is really just here to say hi. If not there goes all your work of distracting LaF.

But of course he wasn’t. “Science Bro, I heard from Danny that you and the floor don got into a fight. That’s rough, dude. And Danny’s been super stressed because of TA stuff lately. So I figured I would invite all of you to join a few of the Zetas in some clubbing tonight. You know, to cheer up a little.”

It’s a nice gesture, but knowing the Zetas it’s probably a recipe for disaster. Pretty much any of their ideas wind up in near-death experiences. They had once managed to make a luau into a near satanic ritual, after all.

You’re about to decline but LaFontaine speaks up first. “We’re in.”

Your head whips in their direction to find an absolutely shit-eating grin on their face.

Of course.

LaF always tends to get like this when they fight with Perry. They go looking to do things that Perry would hate. And clubbing with Zetas surely isn’t something that would get the floor don’s seal of approval. In fact, it would probably only rank a few spaces below "midnight trips to Silas's creepy library" on a list of things Perry does not approve of.

A huge smile breaks out on Kirsch’s face. “Awesome. And it seems like you two already did some pre-gaming. Danny already said she was in. We’re all meeting on the quad in half an hour.”

Just like that he’s out the door.

“Seriously?” you ask once he’s gone. You know they just want to spite Perry, but to do that you could just make a mess in the hall and not have to deal with any Zetas.

LaFontaine shrugs. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Besides, it’s not like you don’t already know that, spoiler alert, Snape kills Dumbledore.”

“You really want to go _clubbing_ with the _Zetas_?”

“Are you really so opposed to the idea?”

You blame the small bit of alcohol you had for not opposing more. It’s not that it doesn’t sound fun; it just sounds like it won’t necessarily end well. But you suppose you can ignore that for now.

So you sigh an agreement before climbing out of your bed to get changed out of your tank top and flannel pants.

* * *

You hate to admit you’re having fun when you’re not even very drunk.

The Zetas that are with you guys are actually decent people and are quite entertaining. They manage to get everyone in a good mood in no time, which you suppose is the point of the night.

LaFontaine no longer seems as upset and Danny is laughing away like she hadn’t had a week from hell in terms of work.

“How did I end up giving you a piggyback ride?” Danny asks as the group walks down the street toward another club a few of you heard some people talking about.

You chuckle though you make no attempt to remove yourself from the rather tall redhead’s back. “To get me down from standing on that table.”

“I still can’t believe you stood on a table to get in that guy’s face,” Kirsch comments.

“Seriously, L, you were tearing him a new one,” LaFontaine adds.

“Well did you not hear the things he was saying to me? They were vomit-inducing at best.”

“Maybe you should’ve just thrown up on him,” Danny laughs, adjusting her arms around your legs to make holding you up less strenuous.

“Dude, that would have been awesome,” one of the Zetas, whose name you can’t remember, chimes in.

“Hey, is this that club those guys were talking about?” another one speaks up, pointing to the building just a few meters ahead.

There’s a glowing sign on the front of it that reads, “The Siren’s Den”. From the outside it just looks like a typical club despite how in awe the guys at the last club had sounded about the place. There’s a bit of a line that none of you really want to wait on, but with no other destination in mind you all decide to head in.

Yet things seem off from the second you walk in.

Cheers and whistles echo off the walls over the thumping dance music, and everyone seems to be crowded toward a stage. And the population of the place is almost entirely male. Since Danny had dropped you off of her back before you walked in, at first you can’t see what is on stage over everyone else from so far away.

And then a figure rises to full height on the stage.

A very female, very _topless_ figure.

“This is a strip club?” Danny finally voices all of your thoughts. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Whoa, wait,” one of the Zetas stops her. “That entry fee wasn’t cheap.”

“I thought that just was a cover charge for the bar!” you exclaim in annoyance.

“Well, we already paid it. Why waste it?” another Zeta argues, sneaking a glance to the show on stage. The money clearly doesn’t seem to be his only reason for staying.

“And that bar looks like it has a killer array,” LaFontaine chimes in, earning some surprised looks. “What? I am a fan of getting my money’s worth.”

No more arguments can be made as the group disbands, some heading to the stage while some flit away to the bar. The only ones left standing by the entrance are you and Danny.

“Let me guess,” Danny says. “This place has your feminist ideals all twisted up.”

You nod. “I think I’m just going to get myself a drink and find myself a nice seat in the back where I can ignore all of this.”

“I think I’ll join you.”

And so after getting your drinks the two of you unintentionally begin a game of trying not to notice each other guiltily sneaking peeks at the stage. It’s beyond awkward at first but by the third or so time one of you catches the other, you’re just laughing about it.

“Okay, don’t worry. I’m not letting Kirsch run one of our nights out again,” Danny decides, picking at the sleeve of her varsity jacket.

“Temptation is bittersweet,” you acknowledge, pretending not to notice the blonde currently prowling around the stage. “I’m glad that you and Kirsch seem to be such good friends now though.”

“Oddly enough, he’s been good for me. He’s sweet, and has really been there for me since…”

“Since things between us didn’t work out like you hoped?”

Maybe that was a little blunt, but you’re tired of dancing around what had happened between you two. You had flirted relentlessly throughout your freshman year. And your sophomore year you had really thought you were into Danny when you found out for sure that the taller girl had feelings for you.

But after a long night where you had wound up making out, you had realized you weren’t as into Danny as you’d thought. You’d felt terrible when you’d tried to explain that to her. Especially since you still thought Danny was amazing, just not for you, which had been hard for Danny to comprehend.

And so things went on to be awkward for pretty much the rest of the school year with Danny dodging you. But ever since your junior year had started you guys have been better than ever. Your friendship was returning easily, and you are thrilled to have it back.

“We don’t have to talk about this.”

“Alright,” you give in immediately. You know that even though she’s mostly over everything she’s still embarrassed to talk about it. “But just so you know, I’m happy we’re good friends again. I missed you.”

Danny is about to bounce back with some witty response to lighten the mood when she sees you blatantly staring at the stage. She probably would tease you for the lack of subtlety if something didn’t seem to be wrong.

But you have gone practically catatonic from the view on the stage.

Wrapped around the pole in a skimpy schoolgirl outfit is a pale brunette that is all too familiar to you. But as much as you know the woman, you don’t know this version of her.

You know short legs clad in jeans that were usually shredded or studded. Not almost bare legs coming out of a tiny plaid skirt that look long and muscular thanks to pair of strappy stilettos.

You know of arms that had bracelets and leather bands wrapped around wrists. Not arms with short white sleeves that flex with each push and pull to the tall metal bar in the center of the stage.

You know of a chest that you occasionally got the privilege of seeing shake from laughter under punk rock t-shirts. Not a chest with breasts practically on display out of a half-open button up, a flimsy red tie dangling between them.

And you know of a face that though it was often contemplative and broody, was still hopeful. Not this mask that’s lustful and seductive, trying to hide all the pain underneath.

“Holy Hufflepuff.”

“Laura, is everything okay?”

Danny isn’t sure why you’re in such a trance and is starting to worry. You can’t bring yourself to care though with your eyes pinned forcefully on the stage, and you think they may even begin to be tearing up the slightest bit. Your voice wavers as though you’re grasping at something impossible.

“I never thought I’d see her again.”

Yet sure enough the one and only Carmilla Karnstein is onstage just across the room.

* * *

 The air is frigid in the alleyway outside the club, but there is no way you are going back inside. You can’t risk missing Carmilla coming out of the back door that read “staff only” on a rusty sign.

There is nothing else in there for you anyway.

Your friends had left at least half an hour ago. Danny had been especially insistent about trying to stay with you but you were having none of it; repeatedly assuring them you have a rape whistle, bear spray, years of krav maga experience, and were completely sober by that point of the night.

And you can’t go back in there by yourself. With no one else to distract you, you’d just keep picturing Carmilla on that stage again.

No matter how many times you picture it you can’t make sense of it. How did Carmilla wind up as a stripper? Where has she been all these years? _How_ has she been? Because the last time you saw her…

You physically try and shake away the thought, not wanting to bring yourself back to that night. You’re not sure you’ll be able to snap yourself back to the present if you do.

Checking your phone for the time, you know the club is closing soon and you had already seen a couple of the dancers leave.

It’s another ten minutes before the door opens again and you almost launch yourself into a panic when Carmilla steps out.

She almost blends into the alleyway in her pitch-black clothing from her jacket to her leather pants to her combat boots. Her hands are stuffed in her pockets and a puff of fog escapes her cherry red lips along with a sigh.

“Hey.”

 _Hey?_ You want to kick yourself. You haven’t seen your best friend in years and that’s the first thing you have to say?

But it’s effective.

At the sound of your voice the dark-haired girl whips around with wide eyes, clearly not having forgotten the sound of your voice.

Those dark eyes flicker over you, trying to take you in.

You can’t blame her; you’re guilty of doing the same. You haven’t seen each other in years. And the Laura she had known didn’t exactly walk around in grey crop tops and tight teal pants. Or go anywhere near strip clubs for that matter.

The two of you stand staring at each other in silence for almost a minute, unable to break from this trance.

You don’t know what you had been expecting. But it certainly hadn’t been for Carmilla to just turn and walk away from you without a word.

“Carm,” you plead, unable to keep the old nickname at bay. “Carm, please. I want to talk to you.”

Carmilla doesn’t stop walking and only barely turns her head to face you as her voice cracks. “Just stay away from me, creampuff. Stay out of my life.”

Your heart drops at Carmilla’s refusal to use your real name. And it hurts even more to get so rejected.

The sting of it all leaves you stunned. You want to beg Carmilla to talk to you, to try and settle all your problems. But you can’t do it. After waiting so long only to have this happen, you’re at a loss for words. You can’t find anything to say in situation.

Even if you could, where the hell are the two of you supposed to start?

Your friendship? The night that separated you two? The past three or so years?

So you watch her walk away, fading further into the cloudy night streetlight by streetlight.

You don’t remember calling a cab, and only vaguely remember the ride back to campus. You don’t recall making it into your room where Betty is still awake working on a paper. But your roommate must’ve been concerned and called Danny.

Because you do remember your friend showing up in her pajamas and holding you while you cry yourself to sleep.


	2. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Laura may be spinning out a little...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the reception so far! I'm glad I've caught your attention. Enjoy the chapter!

“Don’t you just look adorable?”

You have begun to dread hearing that voice. Ever since William Luce moved to this school several weeks ago he has done nothing but pick on you. He’s always calling you out for even the smallest things, and usually has his stupid friends backing him up. He's like all the makings of a future awful frat boy and it makes you want to gag.

Normally you would throw back a snarky remark but he slithers his way on over to you and is talking again before you get the chance. “I mean, I knew you were naïve but I didn’t think you would go so far as to show up to a school dance in something out of the Victorian era.”

“Well, then good thing I wasn’t dressing up for you.”

You think your billowy peach dress is cute. Will probably just has a problem with it because it isn’t as slutty as the ones of the girls he is always trying to go after. But you certainly aren’t trying to get his attention. Or any boy’s for that matter.

And it’s a middle school dance ran by a bunch of the parents for god’s sake. Not some raunchy high school party.

The next thing you know he has his hand on your back and is speaking to you in a low, condescending tone. “Look, I’m sure that-”

He doesn’t get to finish whatever sentence as you whip around and twist his arm into a lock before shoving him back onto his butt. Your dad hadn’t signed you up for krav maga so dumb boys could touch you like that.

But now you were screwed. Everyone else is in the gymnasium while all of you are out in the hallway that isn’t even near the bathrooms. No one is walking down a random wing of classrooms, so it’s unlikely anyone would be coming to help you.

And while you wouldn’t worry about Will alone, he has four friends with him and you are only one rather tiny girl.

Just as he is getting to his feet, a voice rings out from down the hall. “Will, beat it.”

Combat boots thud quietly against the dusty tiled floor as Carmilla strides down the hallway toward you.

Will sneers at his sister. “I didn’t realize you suddenly got along with the toddler.”

Carmilla rolls her eyes. “I didn’t make a deal with mother to babysit you here so you could beat up on girls. Go back to playing basketball with your meathead friends.”

“Fine.”

With that, Will and his friends leave for the gym again. Carmilla stays where she is, glaring as they walk away.

“Um…thank you,” you speak up tentatively.

You’re not sure why Carmilla helped you. The two of you had been doing nothing but arguing in the one class you shared ever since that detention. You can’t figure this girl out to save your life. And she seems to get great joy out of that fact, annoying you whenever it's possible. Actually, more like whenever it's convenient since you've never seen her put real effort into anything.

“Whatever.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised you’re even here. This didn’t seem like your kind of thing.”

“It isn’t. Mother knew William would just get into trouble on his own so for him to go it was required that I go to watch him.”

“And you didn’t make him stay home?”

Carmilla shrugs. “It was something to get me out of the house.”

You can really feel the enthusiasm coming from Carmilla. The brunette looks like she had simply shown up for school. Her outfit is just black jeans and a sheer grey shirt, and she even has a backpack slung over her shoulder.

“You do know you don’t have to do schoolwork at school dances, right?” you tease, gesturing to the shoulder strap Carmilla casually had one hand wrapped around.

Since she’s being oddly nice to you, you figured you might give some light-hearted joking a shot.

Surprisingly, Carmilla hadn’t seemed too annoyed by all the questions until she opens up her backpack and pulls out a book. It’s as though she remembers to throw her snark-fortified walls back up. “I purposely came down this hallway hoping no one was here so I could read my book in peace.”

“I guess I’ll leave you be then,” you say, getting the message loud and clear. You could be wrong, but Carmilla’s dismissal seems more half-hearted than usual.

You would never understand why, but for some reason you don’t make it more than five steps before you spin around and face Carmilla again. “Do you want to come with me?”

Carmilla’s eyebrows shoot up, whether it’s in amusement or surprise you can’t tell. “Not really my scene, cutie.”

“Just figured I’d offer,” you snap back, your anger with this girl slowly coming back. You had only been trying to be nice.

“I’ll tell you what. When Will and his buddies inevitably try and gang up on you again tonight come find me and I’ll show you real dancing.”

You’re shocked by the offer, knowing Carmilla is perfectly content being left alone. You’re almost convinced she’s just messing with you somehow.

True to Carmilla’s prediction, Will does try to corner you again. After managing to dodge him, you go and find Carmilla not having moved since she’d sat and started reading. That doesn’t surprise you.

But what does surprise you is the knowing smirk on her face as she sets down her book and offers out a hand to you, confirming her offer was serious.

And so that night Carmilla shows you how to waltz, despite it being to the beat of awful teen pop music faintly coming from the gym.

* * *

 

“It’s been three weeks, L. And you’re already a month ahead on the work in all of your classes,” LaFontaine points out as you eat dinner with them in the dining hall. “You need to face this. You’re running out of distractions.”

“I’m not just trying to come up with distractions,” you protest as you finish up the rather questionable food on your plate.

You had just wanted to have some your cookies for dinner since you didn’t exactly trust the dining hall’s cooking. But when Perry had found out about your dinner plans she had thrown you and LaF out of your own room to go get dinner elsewhere.

You’re sure she means well and is trying to guide you to healthier food.

But you’re not entirely sure that what you just ate qualified as food.

LaF looks at you skeptically. “You’ve joined four clubs in the past three weeks.”

“They sounded enjoyable.”

“You joined the Chinese Language and Culture Club.”

“So? I find it fascinating to learn about.”

“They don’t speak a word of English at their meetings and you don’t speak Chinese.”

“How else will I learn?”

“Would you please stop with the denial?”

LaFontaine of the unofficial truth-speaker of your friends for a reason. They don’t hesitate to call anyone on their bullshit, and are usually quite effective at it. Perry and Danny have been avoiding the topic so they won’t upset you, but LaF doesn’t have such boundaries.

You cave, biting your lip and meeting their eyes. “I hate not knowing what to do about this.”

“Well, I think you know what you _want_ to do about this,” LaF finishes up their meal, lounging back in their seat as they keep eye contact with you.

“I mean…” you sigh. “I want to talk to her but she clearly doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Maybe she was just surprised and couldn’t handle it.”

“No, I’m pretty sure she hates me. I had hoped that if I ever saw her again she wouldn’t still hate me. But I guess she does.”

“Look, I don’t know exactly what happened with her. But I don’t think you’re going to be able to live with not talking to her now that you know she’s close by. So you might as well go for it.”

“And if she just pushes me away again?”

“Then what’s the harm? It can’t put you back further than where you are now.”

“I guess.”

“You guess? Come on, where is the stubborn Laura Hollis that stands on tables to get in guys’ faces? If you want to say your piece to her, get her to hear it.”

“You know what? You’re right.”

“Hell yeah, I am.”

“I need to girl the hell up and go face her.”

“Yeah, you do,” LaF encourages. There’s a brief pause before they speak again, this time more puzzled. “And how’re you going to do that?”

* * *

 

The bass in the club is so heavy you think it’s going to rattle your heart right out of your chest.

It turns out getting back to The Siren’s Den hadn’t been hard at all. Of course Kirsch’s Zeta bros had already been gearing up to go back and it hadn’t been hard for you to tag along.

Well, it had gotten harder when you’d heard one of them comment on how they thought it was hot that you were into this kind of stuff.

But you had managed not to start an argument he wouldn’t understand anyway by focusing on your goal for the night: to actually talk to Carmilla.

That’s the much more difficult part. You aren’t even sure how you are going to get to Carmilla. Areas heading backstage have security posted there and some sort of construction is going on with the building next door and they blocked off the alley you waited in the last time.

You had pretty much resigned yourself to waiting until the Zetas were ready to go and just leaving things to chance in the meantime.

But after getting through two drinks and handful of brief Veronica Mars fanfics on your phone, Carmilla takes the stage.

And you hate yourself for not being able to look away. The curiosity is impossible to ignore with each time the crowd erupts in hoots and hollers. You really should have known the surges of cheers coincide with Carmilla’s progressively more sexual acts on display.

One round of cheers means her shirt has been discarded, her barely-clad torso glowing dully from the soft lights of the club.

The next means her skirt has also become a tiny heap of fabric on the stage floor.

And the one after that signifies her taking her performance to the pole.

You can’t even try to cast your eyes away at that point. Attraction toward women aside, what Carmilla’s doing on that pole is an impressive physical feat on its own.

Her core and torso must be burning with the way she twists and winds herself on the metal. One second her legs are wrapped tightly around the pole and the next she’s upside down, her legs spread wide out to the sides.

And you feel it’s so messed up for you to be watching this, nonetheless almost enjoying it.

Saying it’s like watching a car crash is an understatement.

It’s like having hypothermia and seeing someone you know dousing their body in gasoline and lighting it up.

They’re hurting and you want to help them, and you’re so cold that you’re drawn to their blazing warmth even if you know it’ll leave lasting burns at best.

It only worsens when Carmilla’s eyes somehow find yours.

Her expression is neutral yet you expect her eyes to hold anger and pain. Instead they are dangerously devoid of emotion.

Carmilla removing her bra snaps you out of your daze, leading you to look anywhere but the stage. That was a line you couldn’t cross, even if having such boundaries seems almost ridiculous at this point.

Staring at your phone in hopes of finding anything else to focus on, you begin cringing every time the crowd cheers. You don’t want to know what else Carmilla could be doing to gain such approval.

It isn’t hard to tell when the performance is over. Loud applause echoes for several minutes before dying out. From there the music shifts back to something more casual, and people start milling about. One man moves away from the stage, passing behind you as he blurts out rather lewd remarks about the dancer that had just been onstage.

You consciously have to stop yourself from whirling on him.

You don’t care if Carmilla hates you. Some guy shouldn’t be saying things _that_ disgusting about any woman.

But the last thing Carmilla would want would be you starting a scene on her behalf.

The slight tremble in your hands hadn’t been obvious until you pick up the glass to take another sip of your drink in hopes of soothing your throat. All your different emotions are waging war inside of you, unsure of what you should be feeling.

The most prominent seems to be sadness. Sadness that you had to come into a strip club just for the off chance of reconciling with your old friend. Sadness that you’d been away from said friend for so long. And sadness that you have a feeling that Carmilla wouldn’t be in this position if the two of you had never been a part of each other’s lives.

Before you can ponder anymore, you find your stool being spun around until you see Carmilla standing all of two feet away.

“What the frilly hell are you doing here?”

The first thought you have is that you’re grateful that Carmilla has changed back into her street clothes. Dark jeans and a faded band t-shirt are a lot less distracting than the get-up she’d been wearing onstage.

Still, you have a hard time figuring out what to say. “I-I wanted to see you.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the show,” Carmilla bites out sarcastically, though her insecurity bleeds through. “Now get out of here.”

“Why won’t you just let me talk to you?”

“You’re a few years too late with this.”

“Better late than never.”

“You’re insane.”

“Quite possibly. But is it really so wrong to want you in my life again? That I want to forget about everything that happened and have you as a friend again?”

At the word “friend”, Carmilla’s face twists as though she’s been slapped.

“You’re kind of not the only one involved in that decision.”

With a sigh, you slide off the stool to stand on level ground with her. “You’re right.”

Carmilla seems surprised by the submission, but recovers quickly. “Now that we’ve agreed on that you can leave.”

“So you’re just going to shut me out? You don’t even want to try and fix things? You’d rather pretend I never existed?”

“Pretend you never existed? That’s impossible, cupcake. I get pretty little reminders of you every damn day.”

You’re not sure what exactly she means by that, but it’s enough of a confirmation that Carmilla probably still blames you for a lot of things.

You know Carmilla has a right to be angry, and is likely thrown off by your random appearance at her work again. This is the side of Carmilla that you’ve always had a hard time standing though. The side that is willing to give up and just let things happen because fighting for them scares her.

So rationally you know you shouldn’t start going for low blows like Carmilla is, but you can’t help it. “You haven’t changed, have you? You’re still that snarky teenager who just lets themselves have every crappy card handed to them. You still can’t take care of yourself, or you just don’t give a damn to.”

The clench of Carmilla’s jaw leads her to all but growl out, “And you think you can _take care_ of me? That you can come in and be my knight in animal patterns?”

“That’s not-”

“This isn’t some fairytale. Someone can’t just wander into my life and fix all my problems and make me start crapping rainbows in glee. That’s not how things work. And with your track record when it comes to _helping_ me, you’re the last person I’d want for the job.”

That hits like a punch to the gut. It’s apparent that Carmilla blames you, but to hear it put so bluntly hurt. Sure you had screwed up, but before that you had done plenty to help Carmilla that you know that broken teenager had appreciated. Now it’s like Carmilla’s discarding even the good that had come out of your friendship along the way.

“Just leave already,” Carmilla hisses, though her voice breaks even in so few words.

“Fine, I’ll go,” you cave, gathering your jacket as your eyes water up. “But this isn’t over.”

Carmilla has to know that this isn’t over. That you aren’t going to let this go. That you will not abandon her. Not again.

You turn away once your jacket is on, ready to go and wait outside until the Zetas are all set to head back to Silas.

As you pivot, you can swear you catch a glimpse of Carmilla snarling and slapping her hand against the stool you had just vacated.

* * *

 

It’s been a week since your trip to The Siren’s Den and you’re beginning to think you’re having hallucinations.

Twice within a mere seven days you could’ve sworn you’d seen Carmilla on campus. And not just out and about near the library (where stranger things have happened anyway), but in the vicinity of your dorm.

The first time you chalk it up to your mind being frayed after using grape soda to stay awake for multiple hours to finish a paper.

Even though you had gotten weeks ahead in all your work, one of your professors sporadically came up with this “fun new assignment” idea that included a rather long essay and very little time to do it.

You had just finished the paper, turned all the lights off in your dorm and were aiming to collapse into your bed when you feel the chill of the cool night air. Betty must’ve left the window open before falling asleep and you had yet to notice. Staring at a computer screen for hours while running on pure sugar tends to turn you into quite the oblivious zombie.

With a huff, you shuffle over to the window and pull down the framed sheet of glass.

The sky is extremely dark at this time of night, but everything on the ground is still rather lit up by streetlights and light seeping out from the windows of buildings.

Still not many people are out, so it’s quite noticeable when a figure exits the ground floor of your dorm and begins walking down one of the paths. Even despite their dark clothing.

You don’t think twice about it until the figure stops on the dirty cement and turns to face the building as though they had forgotten something.

Being a few floors up and rather sleep deprived, you decide there is no way it’s Carmilla. Sure the hair, skin tone, clothing style, body language, and build are the same. But it just wasn’t possible that Carmilla had just been inside your dorm in the middle of the night.

The second time it’s even harder to deny it’s her.

You’re standing outside your dorm in the middle of the day due to a building evacuation caused by some kids from the Alchemy Club living on the ground floor. Whatever experiment they’d been trying went poorly enough that it has the fire department thoroughly checking the structural damage.

It’s already been twenty minutes since the wailing alarm had driven you from your room and you’re anxious to go back in. You’re not happy this interrupted your mini Doctor Who marathon.

The crowd around the building begins to disperse, people deciding to go to other buildings since it seems like it might still be a little while until you can all go back inside. With fewer people around, you get a clearer view of the area around you.

You’re now able to see a woman walking toward the building from the parking lot, her dark clothing standing out in the bright sunlight.

She seems confused, unable to figure out why everyone is outside just staring at the structure while firefighters mill about inside.

And you don’t doubt that those confused facial features with a sharp eyebrow raised halfway to her hairline belong to Carmilla Karnstein.

She’s still a good fifty meters away, but you step forward to head in her direction. Unfortunately you don’t make it very far before you’re sent sprawling to the ground by some huge guy knocking into you. Apparently him and some of his friends had started throwing a Frisbee around to pass the time and he was so focused on catching the disc that he hadn’t seen you.

He’s extremely apologetic and nice enough about helping you up but by the time you’re standing and moving away from them you’ve lost sight of Carmilla.

She disappeared so quickly you almost can’t believe it.

You don’t know if you’re better off convincing yourself you’ve gone insane and imagined her presence both times or driving yourself insane in an attempt to decipher why she was there in the first place.

* * *

 

After another round of truth speaking from LaFontaine you’ve dropped out of all those clubs you had joined on a whim. And you’re already missing the free Chinese food you got from the Chinese Club meetings even if you had no clue what was going on.

But more problematic than that, you’re left with nothing to do.

Nothing to take your mind off of what you can no longer convince yourself were hallucinations. And nothing to ward off your temptation to go back to The Siren’s Den. Which you know is a bad idea because Carmilla will most likely see you and have security literally toss you to the curb.

And you don’t want to be a creepy stalker. But goddammit, you don’t just want to let her go.

The more you sit around and think about her the worse it gets.

It starts with just replaying her venomous words at the club. Though they hurt, they’re the shallowest of the wounds. You’re safe if your brain just remains in those thoughts.

But from there you start coming up with all these possibilities of what kind of life she has been living these past few years. And you recall all the times you’d thought of her along the way and feel terrible for not trying harder to seek her out.

The next thing you know you’re reliving that awful night you last saw her when you were both seventeen and foolish, and your hands are shaking and you want to be anywhere but in your own mind.

You can barely breathe by the time you remember Danny saying something about a Summer Society party you were welcome to go to.

You hadn’t been that interested at first. You didn’t know that many of the Summers and a few of those that you did weren’t exactly your biggest fans after you inadvertently put an end to their Adonis Hunt last year.

But now it sounds like a perfectly good distraction.

By the time you show up everything is in full swing. The Zetas have already tried starting to crash; you’re pretty sure you see Mel strangling Theo in a choke hold. And you find Danny because she comes flying out of nowhere to tackle some Zeta to the ground.

“Hey!” she greets happily as she gets up and notices you. She has to yell for you to be able to here her over the music mixed with Summers vs. Zetas war cries. “I didn’t think you were coming. Betty’s here and she said you refused to join her.”

You shrug. “I decided she was right. I can’t just spend the rest of the year in the room.”

“Well then go get yourself a drink. I have some Zeta heads to go bust but I’ll catch up with you.”

In the next instant she’s flying across the room after a different drunken frat boy. You shake your head at the insanity but are grateful for it at the same time. It’s certainly something else to think about.

You find all the drinks with no trouble and as soon as you’re there Betty finds you along with Sarah Jane and Natalie. And since they’re already drunk, they just keep pushing drinks your way.

At first you try to pace yourself. But once the alcohol steadies your hands that had still been slightly trembling on and off you’re eager for more to take the edge off. To finally put your mind completely at ease for the first time in over a month.

Then you start to lose yourself really fast, but you know you’re actually having fun and that’s all you care about.

The last thing you remember is Natalie hauling you out to the dance floor even if you’re pretty sure you were still conscious for a while after that.

* * *

 

Other than a pounding headache, one of the first things you register when you wake up is that you’re missing your shirt.

And your shoes, for that matter.

You’re grateful to find yourself in your bra and jeans sprawled out on a couch since drunken sex with a total stranger is one other screw-up you don’t want to add to your growing list. It’d be one thing if you had been looking for a hook-up, but that certainly hadn’t been your intention.

“Laura, what’s going on?”

You have to put all your effort into suppressing a groan at the sound of Danny’s voice. You know you messed up last night and are already beating yourself up about it; you don’t need a lecture from Danny to add to that. No matter how much she means well.

With a yawn, you sit up and push back some of your messy hair from your face. “Can I please just find my clothes and get some food first?”

When you actually look at Danny you find her holding your shirt out to you with a concerned look on her face. You hate when you make your friends worry, but wish it didn’t always have to be a big deal. You gratefully take the shirt and notice she’d also laid out ibuprofen and water on the end table next to the couch.

You can feel Danny watching you as you put on your shirt and swallow the pills as she tries to figure out what to say.

“Do you remember any of last night?”

“Vaguely,” you keep your answer short, unsure of where exactly she's going with this.

“By the time I got back to you last night you were way more drunk than I’ve ever seen you. I was scared for you.”

“Why? Because I had one night where I let loose a little? You don’t have to protect me.”

“Laura, you’re my friend. Of course I’m going to want to protect you. But I know you hate when I do that so I let you be.”

She’s trying to keep the bitterness out of her tone but you know it’s there. One of the reasons you hadn’t been able to see yourself with her was because her overprotectiveness reminded you of your dad. You didn’t want that in a potential partner, and it was still a sore spot for Danny.

“Twenty minutes later,” Danny continues recounting the night, “I find you on this couch making out with some girl. And well it looked like you guys were going to be heading a lot further than that since you’d already lost your shirt.”

Now you’re kind of curious and worried but you stay quiet.

“I was going to pull you two apart because the couch, seriously? And I think both of you were too far-gone to realize or care that you would’ve been giving everyone a free show. But I didn’t wind up having to.”

You finally meet her eyes, even if it gives away that you don’t recall any of this.

“I don’t know why, but you suddenly just straightened up like you’d been snapped out of a daze or something. You practically peeled the girl off of you, and she ended up walking away. You were just lying on the couch staring at the ceiling but before I could even come over and ask what was wrong you fell asleep.”

You run a hand through your hair, frustrated you can’t remember anything and beating yourself up for letting things get to that point.

Danny makes the mistake of continuing. “Look, Laura. This isn’t like you and I’m not the only one concerned. I already had to deal with a frantic call from Perry this morning because she stopped by your dorm and Betty had no idea where you were either. If not me, can you please just talk to one of us? Let us help?”

“Relax, it was one time,” you’re getting defensive now and you know it.

You don’t want to share your whole story with Carmilla with them. As a journalism major you spend tons of time telling everyone else’s stories but you’ve never wanted to tell your own. You’ve avoided doing it for so long the thought of it scares you now.

Danny clearly doesn’t want to argue but it’s not in her nature to let things go. “You’re right. It was one time that you got that drunk. But it’s not the only time you haven’t been yourself lately. You totally threw yourself into your schoolwork and none of us even heard from you for two days. Betty barely even saw you and she lives within five feet of you.”

“I’m fine now. I just needed to get all of that out of my system.”

Danny sighs. You both know you’re still not fine but you know you won’t be reacting like this anymore though. It’s time to stop thinking about this Carmilla situation so much, and start actually _doing_ something about it.

“Okay,” Danny gives in, awkwardly rubbing her hands on her pants. “If you need-”

“I know,” you cut her off.

You know she would be there for you in a heartbeat. But you also know you won’t be running to her about any of this anytime soon.

She disappears from the room and after a brief search of the rather sticky floor you find your missing shoes. You hadn’t noticed when you first woke up but the room reeks of alcohol. You also think that might’ve been a bloodstain on the carpet but with Zetas and Summers having been in the same room you don’t really even question it.

But all of that makes you happy to finally get outside, even if the bright light of the morning splits your skull at first.

As you adjust to the light and the ibuprofen begins to kick in your head starts to clear as you cross campus to get back to your dorm so you can shower. You’ve almost reached your room as you slowly start to recall the girl you’d been on the couch with.

And the recollection of why you’d stopped her hits you like a truck.

The entire time you’d been making out with her you’d been picturing Carmilla instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be my favorite one so far, so I might try and get that one to you guys sooner rather than later. Otherwise I'll probably try and stick to updating about once a week but I make no guarantees.
> 
> Hope you liked it!


	3. Raindrops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much plot advancement, but here's Carmilla's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooh, Carmilla's POV! (lol this is angsty af)  
> Also, a kind of important notice for this story: not all chapters will have trigger warnings and I'm not really sure what does or doesn't constitute putting one. And I hate putting them at the top because I think it can ruin the way the chapter builds for those who don't need it.  
> So I'll be putting them in the notes on the bottom. If you have any triggers just take a quick scroll to the bottom before reading. Sorry if that's inconvenient, I'm just trying to figure out the best way to do this.

“Laura, what are you doing? It’s freezing out there.”

“Come on, Carm. It’s snowing!”

“Why should I be happy that it’s cold enough out that ice is falling from the sky?”

Laura huffs, running up the steps of her porch to yank open the front screen door. She grabs your forearm and you groan, knowing where this is going. You’re beginning to regret spending the night at her house since she’d already woken you up ridiculously early and now she was going to try and drag you into the arctic tundra.

Except you don’t really regret it. Because not only do you love not being in your own house, you do kind of love being around her.

Only kind of.

“They haven’t even plowed the street yet. We can go sledding!”

“Can’t you just come back inside and we can go back to sleep?”

“It’s noon. You’ll live. Now let’s go.”

She tugs at your arm and you know you should probably put more of an effort into fighting her off. You’re both only in the long-sleeve shirts and sweatpants you slept in, nothing extra to ward off the frigid temperature. She manages to get you down the steps before you’re retracting your arms to pull them across your chest in an attempt to preserve warmth.

While you stand rigid Laura has moved further out onto the lawn and is spinning around, kicking up settled flakes in her wake. The snow is halfway up her calves yet she powers through it in her excitement.

An admiring chuckle escapes your lips. Prancing through slush may not be on your priorities list but seeing Laura so happy is infectious. She’s been good for you. As much as you two can bicker she’s been the first real friend you’ve ever had. You act indifferent every time she’s unbearably nice to you even though you’re sure she’s caught on that you genuinely appreciate it.

She’s paying no attention to you whatsoever and an idea pops into your head. It’s an asshole move, but it’s so tempting.

You bend over, scooping some snow into your hand while she continues to have her focus elsewhere. You know what you’re about to do is childish but at that moment you don’t care.

In one quick motion you send the snowball sailing to hit Laura.

You’d been aiming for her back but she twirls again only to get nailed in the gut.

Her mouth goes comically wide and a smirk grows on your face. You know this is going to get a rise out of her, something that never gets old to you - a fact that she pretends to loathe. You wouldn’t mess around like this with anyone else though and you get the feeling she secretly enjoys that.

She’s your best friend, after all. You suppose that entitles her to such privileges.

“Did you just…?” she trails off the question in disbelief as she looks at the wet stain on her shirt.

Your smirk only grows, riling her up further.

You’re not thrilled when she starts launching snowballs at you, but you’re not the least bit shocked. Laura’s way too stubborn to let you get away that easily.

You tell yourself that you take off running only to avoid getting soaked and freezing your ass off even further, and not that you’re enjoying something so juvenile. You take a couple hits, but you manage to nail Laura a few times. She’d tried to corner you by the neighbor’s fence yet you’d managed to lose her when you ran off.

So you’re completely caught off guard when you round the house only to get tackled into the snow.

Well, semi-tackled.

Laura’s hit was a bit off, only catching you with one arm.

You wind up landing on your butt, which leaves you half-buried and shivering. Then you turn to Laura who somehow landed a few feet away.

And what a spectacular landing it was.

She face-planted entirely sprawled out into the snow. And when she pushes herself up with a groan her whole front is covered in a white frost, her coated face twisted in confusion.

And you can’t help it: you start laughing.

Not a smirk, not a half-hearted chuckle, but a full-on laugh.

A sound that you can’t even recall making for a long time.

Laura brushes her face off, looking at you in amazement. In the next instant she joins in, and you’re both cackling like fools as you sit in the snow probably getting hypothermia.

But you don’t care.

You’re genuinely happy. And even if you have trouble admitting it, it’s all thanks to the dork of a snowman (or snowperson, as you’re sure she’d correct you) next to you.

* * *

 

“Ell.”

You call out her name when no one answers your knocks to her thin apartment door.

“Ell.”

You try again, your voice a little louder and your knuckles rapping harder against the wood.

“Ell, please.”

You hate begging, but you’re desperate. You know you’ve screwed up but you never thought she would just abandon you like this.

It’s all so ironic. You’d been trying to get clean. You’d been proud of yourself for even finally admitting you need help. Finally starting to move in the right direction, you had been nervous but almost excited to confide in Ell.

It’d been more than seven months since you had met her when she’d tripped over you in that park you’d spent the night in. You’d fallen fast for her and she had seemed to feel the same all this time.

Then why was it so easy for her to just leave you like this?

You know being a drug addict and a stripper aren’t glamorous titles, but you thought she’d still love you enough that it didn’t matter. When you fought she’d claimed she was just upset you’d been lying to her for so long.

But you’d seen the change in her eyes. How she looked at you in disgust when you mentioned your job or the pills. Her image of you was shattered, and she didn’t want all of you anymore.

You were just trying to get better but now her reaction just made you want those painkillers again. They made you not care about anything.

And you really didn’t want to care about her right now.

Without those pills shutting up your brain it’s no surprise you wound up on her doorstep trying to get another chance just to apologize. You just want closure. You just don’t want the last thing she said to you to be calling you a monster.

Your fourth round of knocking is softer as you lose all the courage you’d mustered coming here. Without a clue of where else to go, you slump against the wall across from her door and slide to the ground.

You might as well rest here for a few minutes. It’s long walk back to your apartment and your legs are tired. Giving them a small break sounds like heaven.

You learn the hard way you should’ve just left when the police show up as you’re standing to head out.

Realization hits you hard.

Ell called the cops on you; she thinks that lowly of you even after months of a relationship where you gave her everything you had left to offer.

* * *

 

You’re both sweating and shivering and you feel like you want to die.

This is the third time you’re putting yourself through withdrawal to try and get better and it doesn’t get easier. You’ve already thrown up all your stomach contents and your head feels like someone played tetherball with it.

“Darling, do you need anything?” Mattie’s gentle voice rings out and you feel her fingers pushing at your damp hair. Though you don’t dare open your eyes. You’ve already made that mistake only to learn that the light just makes you feel even shittier.

“You know that all I want to say is that I need those pills,” you grumble.

You’re beyond grateful that she’s there though. She’d already helped you through your last relapse after Ell left you. She knows how miserable you are, but also won’t put up with your crap. She would sooner smack you with a bag of those pills than let you take any. You’re positive she’s already torn through your things and flushed every one of your stashes she could find.

“Well, all your little happy meds are gone. So ask for something more reasonable.”

“Water?”

You hate to ask anyone to do anything for you. Especially Mattie with all she’s done for you in the few months you’ve been reunited. But you hope this way she’ll leave to the kitchen for a moment.

As much as you love having her around, you don’t like how much you’ve been lying to her lately.

But you hadn’t exactly expected Laura Hollis to show up at your job.

And as much as you had tried not to, you’d been too weak to keep yourself from going right back to those painkillers hours after seeing her.

You’d only seen her for all of ten goddamn seconds and you were already ruining yourself over her again.

You didn’t want to admit that to anyone. And Mattie would be the worst if she found out about it. She was a lot less than fond of Laura, and you feared she might actually go and rip your old friend’s throat out for approaching you.

And of course there was the lecture she would subject you to for letting this girl get to you so much.

You probably deserve it though. You feel like an idiot.

This withdrawal is physically beating your body down, but you still much prefer that misery to the mental ass-kicking your giving yourself.

You shouldn’t have relapsed over something so stupid.

You saw Laura again but it’s not like you should care about that.

It’s not like you should still feel where she ripped out your heart all those years ago.

“Here you go.” You’d been so wrapped up in your own head you hadn’t heard Mattie’s heels come clicking back into the room against the shabby wood floor. “How did all of this come about?”

The way she breathes the question she was probably asking herself more than you.

But you still grumble out, “I told you. I had a really bad night at work and I thought I saw Ell. And my withdrawal symptoms had been acting up.”

Well, there was one good thing to come out of your horrible break-up with Ell: it was a cover story for seeing Laura that Mattie wouldn’t prod you about. Even if she didn’t believe it she didn’t want to risk upsetting you.

The withdrawal symptoms acting up wasn’t a lie though. As per usual your recovery was going better and better until an episode of symptoms came crashing back. You’d barely been sleeping and your stress had been through the roof for no reason before even seeing Laura.

“Once you’re feeling a little better I’ll get you some of that chocolate you like.”

“Mattie…” you warn.

“Oh hush,” she cuts you off. “With me here now we can afford luxuries here and there.”

* * *

 

She showed up at the club again and you don’t know why you were surprised.

That was part of her journalistic nature that used to drive you nuts. Always investigating. Never satisfied until stories are wrapped up to her liking.

You know you were harsh to her. But you have every right to be angry.

Don’t you?

Why should it even matter? You don’t care about her anyway.

You don’t. You don’t. You don’t.

(You do.)

The thought makes you slam your hand against the stool you just drove her away from in frustration.

So you watch her walk away and hate yourself for wanting her to come back.

* * *

 

If you thought showing up at Ell’s apartment all those months ago only to get arrested was a stupid idea than you must’ve lost even more brain cells along the way.

You’ve probably crossed a line already by grabbing one of those frat boys who’d shown up at the club, without Laura that time, and getting him to tell you where on campus she lived. It was one of those times that it paid off to have a way with delightfully threatening words.

You clearly didn’t think this through. You got off work and just drove to Silas University without hesitation. You got out of your car and found her building without looking back.

But once you set foot in the building you immediately get the sense that you don’t belong there.

There are cheerful posters up in the lobby advertising all kinds of ridiculous events. A handful of students sit in a nearby lounge probably cramming for some sort of exam.

None of this fits you.

You spend your time worrying about staying off drugs long enough to get your life together while these kids run off to parties looking to make mistakes.

You do what you can to keep enough money so that you don’t end up on the streets again while these kids are all spending more money to go here than you will probably ever have.

College is supposed to be about finding yourself and building up to a good future.

Your life already took you through a crash course of finding yourself and you’ve thrown your future away more times than you can count.

You came here wanting to talk to Laura but you don’t belong near her either. Even if you could hate her, she doesn’t deserve to be taken down with you.

So you turn around in the lobby and make your way back out into the late night, never even making it to room 307.

* * *

 

Mattie notices your continuously terrible mood and tries to take you out for a fun night.

You don’t want to drink and risk getting desperate for the painkillers again, yet Mattie is able to make you genuinely happy without getting drunk.

She somehow managed to find some more upscale nightclub. The elegant décor makes you hope this place isn’t breaking your bank, but Mattie gives you a look not to question her before you even get the chance.

Mattie goes to get herself just a single glass of red wine and you’re tempted to join her. So you quickly distract yourself with a random woman on the dance floor.

You catch her eyes and you immediately relax. This is a game you’re quite comfortable with. You seduce people for a living. It fills you with a confidence you’ve been lacking lately, so you make your way over to her without hesitation.

She’s undoubtedly attractive, curves and long limbs that boost your ego a bit more.

But then you try and dance with her and it just isn’t right.

She’s got several inches on you and yet still has you attempt to lead. It doesn’t transfer well and you can’t remember the last time you’ve gotten so tripped up while trying to tango with someone.

You miss your shorter dance partner who you could pull through the steps as she looked at you in wonder for having the flow of it down to a science.

You’re grateful when Mattie cuts in. She’s the one who taught you how to tango, after all. She pulls you through the motions and in no time the two of you are cracking up as she overdramatizes dipping you.

Several nights a week you spend dancing at The Siren’s Den. But that dancing drains you and makes you feel like an object. This dancing gives you the life and energy you’ve been missing and with Mattie you feel like a person. You’re her sister, her friend. Not just her entertainment.

* * *

 

You thought Mattie cheering you up would make you forget about Laura.

Instead it made you want to seek her out. Feeling less vulnerable, you’re tempted to hear her out. You think you can actually handle whatever she has to offer.

Which once again leads you to Silas University.

It’s mid-morning and you can’t even remember the last time you were up at this hour. You leave work exhausted most nights so it’s rare you’re up at a reasonable time to even have lunch.

As you near Laura’s building you see fire trucks and dozens of students milling about outside and for a second you’re worried. But everyone seems calm, annoyed if anything, so no one must be in danger.

(Laura must not be in danger.)

For all you know she’s in class at this time, but you wind your way through the crowd to try and find her anyway.

You don’t see her until some guy lunging for a Frisbee is plowing her to the ground and your resolve crumbles.

At first a laugh almost escapes your lips. Because of course Laura winds up in embarrassing situations. Of course a guy twice her size just tripped over her like she was merely a loose rock on the ground. It would be just her luck.

And then so many thoughts hit you at once.

She’s just going to be pissed you’re here. That after you basically told her to go to hell you shouldn’t be stalking her like this.

You shouldn’t find so much amusement that Laura still finds herself in clumsy situations. It’s not like you know her anymore.

Why should you even feel bad or entertained? You shouldn’t care. And even if you do, you should be pissed with her.

What are you even going to say to her? _I wasn’t feeling like shit today so I figured we could give this a shot?_

All you know is that before you fully process any of these thoughts your legs have carried you far away from that building and you can no longer find the will to turn back.

* * *

 

It’s been a long shift and you were so close to getting to just leave for the night.

One of the other dancers had come back to tell you that someone was booking a private room with you and you’d nearly growled at her for being the bearer of bad news. Your head already has a dull ache but you don’t even keep ibuprofen around anymore.

Some of the other dancers probably have some but you’re not about to take it anyway. And even if you were, it’s not like you were friendly enough to them that they’d exactly want to help you.

With a sigh you get up to prep yourself before heading back toward the reserved rooms. Theo, one of the new security guards, is standing there and you grimace at the sight of him.

None of the security has exactly been accommodating to you since you wound up on your boss’s bad side. Theo isn’t any different even though he’s only been here about two weeks.

It probably doesn’t help that you snark at every comment he throws your way.

“Room 2,” he informs you where your customer is waiting. “She’s an odd one. Enjoy.”

You glare at the smirk on his face. “Kiss my ass.”

You’re secretly somewhat relieved it’s a woman. At least you don’t have to feel a boner rubbing against you to top off this fantastic shift.

Approaching the door you heave a sigh and let your face become passive again. You just want to get this over with, get paid, and get out of there for the night.

Entering the room, you lose your resolve when you see through the dim lighting who is sitting on the plush leather couch waiting for you.

You recompose yourself by the time she looks up because you actually aren’t all that surprised to find Laura Hollis before you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the potential trigger warning: drug abuse/addiction  
> On that note, I hope you all enjoyed. I'll try and get out the next chapter before I go away for the weekend. You've all been amazing so far, you deserve it.


	4. I'm Not Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so they meet again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the delay. I had been on track to post this before the weekend but a family matter came up and I just couldn't get this done.  
> So now I hope you enjoy the rather late addition!

You slam the wooden door behind you and storm over to your bed, plopping onto it with an annoyed huff.

The mattress shifts as Carmilla sits up by the headboard and puts her book aside. “Another fight with your dad?”

“He doesn’t want you staying over,” you explain. “I’m not surprised at this point, but I hate that he still tries to come up with excuses. This time he said it’s just because he has to be up early for work. But he doesn’t have to be up any earlier than usual.”

“It’s fine,” Carmilla assures you, sliding off your bed and going to retrieve her backpack off the floor. “I don’t have to stay. I can go.”

“You hate going home,” you point out.

It isn’t something the two of you talk about a lot, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out Carmilla avoids her house. You know it’s because she argues with her mom constantly and Will throws her under the bus every chance he gets.

“Yeah, but it’s not news that your dad doesn’t like me. I don’t need him to hate me even more and I don’t want you fighting with him because of me.”

You wish your dad hating Carmilla were an overstatement.

He’s always been protective so he was less than thrilled to discover your best friend was the same girl who’d nearly blown up a science lab and landed you in detention.

But that was over a year ago and Carmilla has been great.

You finally don’t feel as lonely with her as your best friend. And she cares about you way more than she likes to admit. She once skipped school to be with you when you were sick. You know the skipping school part didn’t thrill your dad, but doesn’t that show how much she’s there for you?

“Well, I already managed to make him cave and let you stay,” you inform her, “so you can stage a walkout the next time this happens.”

She bites her lip in hesitation and glances at the door and you know she’s considering leaving anyway.

You’ve never understood this about her. She has no shame in eating all your food or stealing your pillow or mug while she’s here. But then the moment the idea of her going home gets brought up she seems to feel like a burden.

To be honest, you don’t want her going home. You’re not Will’s biggest fan and even though Carmilla and Mattie are close, you still don’t know what to think of the older girl. She has a way of joking with Carmilla and threatening you in the same sentence that tends to throw you a bit.

And then there’s Carmilla’s mother. Even though you weren’t supposed to, you’ve overheard bits of conversations between them before. Carmilla’s mom always talks to Carmilla more like she’s an object than a person. It sent a chill down your spine to hear the ominous way she called Carmilla a diamond, like her worth is all about superficiality.

You move to sit back against your headboard and grab your laptop off the nightstand, booting it up and opening Netflix.

“Get over here,” you tell her.

She still considers it for a moment, but caves. She releases the strap of her backpack and crawls up the bed to lounge next you. That broody expression is yet to leave her face, so you push your shoulder that’s already brushing hers against her a little harder. Her shoulder shoves back against yours and you let out a little laugh as a small smile tugs at her lips.

You can tell she’s still lost in her own thoughts when she doesn’t even complain that you’ve pulled up an array of Disney movies to choose from. She’s not even paying enough attention to threaten you when you jokingly hover over High School Musical just to get a rise out of her.

You’re narrowing your choices when she finally speaks up, “Hey, Laura?”

Pulling your gaze from the screen, you turn your head to meet her eyes. It’s like all the emotion she’s always hiding are trying to convey themselves in a single gaze.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

You almost want to laugh because she’s being so dramatic about all of this. You fight with your dad over his rules all the time, and it’s not like you don’t want her around. As much as she can try and be no fun sometimes there’s a reason your friendship has grown so strong so fast.

You can mess with each other and pick on each other to no end but you know she would do anything for you. Every now and then you think Carmilla is still learning you would do the same for her.

But you know this is her trying to be sincere. Her trying to make an effort with the feelings thing she’s not very good at.

You’re not always the best with them either, so in return you joke, “We’ll see if you’re still thanking me after High School Musical.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, look. I found it.”

“Laura, you don’t even really like this movie.”

“Oops, I clicked it.”

“Is it too late for me to follow your dad’s advice and leave?”

“Yep.”

* * *

“Hey, dad.”

“Hi, sweetie,” he sounds so excited to hear your voice that you try to cheer yourself up for this conversation.

Lately though a part of you has been growing angry with him again. You thought you’d gotten over it, but you can’t help but keep thinking how different things might be if he hadn’t always been so overprotective.

But that’s been his trademark for as long as you can remember and it doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon.

You’d gotten so bitter about it earlier this week you’d thrown your Monday bear spray out your dorm window.

“How’s everything going?” you ask, and you do genuinely care.

You still love him.

You also just don’t want to give him any reason to believe something could be wrong. It will only make him more paranoid and that’s the last thing you need.

“Everything’s going well. What about you? Is there anything you need?”

You repress a sigh, knowing he’s just trying to be nice. “I’m good, thanks. Is there a particular reason you called?”

“Well, I’m just trying to plan our Hollis family Christmas.”

You can’t help but brighten up at the mention of the holiday. Even the year that you had spent doing nothing but arguing with him you two had called a truce at Christmas time. Neither of you wanted to watch Christmas specials alone or go without baking cookies together. Putting up decorations without acknowledging each other had just been too bleak.

You're so wrapped up in the joy of the coming holidays that you missed him asking you something.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

He chuckles like he isn’t surprised you zoned out for a second. He knows you better than you’d like to admit most of the time. “I was asking if you knew when you would be coming home yet. It is still a ways away but I figured I might as well ask.”

“I’m not sure yet,” you breathe. You could use a break. “I still have to figure out everything with finals.”

“Well, let me know once you put it all together.”

“Of course.”

* * *

It’s early in the morning so for once you’re not in a hurry to try and get ready for class.

Betty stayed at a friend’s dorm last night since she was staying late to study anyway, so you have the room to yourself. Since most college students are still passed out at this hour it’s nice and quiet.

You just got out of a nice, relaxing shower and are drying out your hair in the bathroom when you hear a knock on the door to the hall in the other room.

You don’t think twice about ignoring it. It’s probably just Perry since she’s the only other person on the floor awake right now. And you can just call her or stop by her room once you’re done getting ready.

But you hear the knocking again, this time more demanding.

With a huff of annoyance you decide to ignore it again. It’s probably some club trying to fundraise or recruit though they’re going to fail miserably at this hour.

The third round of knocking progresses to banging on the door and so you storm out of the bathroom to the main door and yank it open. You’re ready to snap at whoever is being so loud at this hour but the sight before you brings you to a dead stop.

If you never expected to see Carmilla again, then you certainly never thought you would find yourself in the presence of Matska Belmonde again.

“Finally,” she says. “You know, it’s rude to keep a guest waiting.”

“It’s also rude to show up as a guest unannounced,” you’re surprised you were able to even form a comeback, yet arguing with the older woman has always come naturally to you.

She walks past you through the door, letting herself in and you can tell she hasn’t changed much over the years. She still does what she can to commandeer a space and make it her own.

“How do you even know where I live?”

“I have my methods.”

You’ll later find out that said methods involve threatening Perry when the redhead comes to your dorm demanding answers.

It’s quiet for a long moment as the two of you stand there sizing each other up. You feel significantly less intimidating. She’s in heels and a striking red dress while your hair is still damp and you’re in jeans and a lion sweater. She’s got several inches on you and in your tiny dorm she seems even bigger.

She doesn’t take a seat though, so you remain standing as well.

You’re not scared of her. You’re determined not to let her control you more than she already has.

“I’m assuming you know why I’m here.”

“Carmilla.”

You had no idea that the two sisters were in each other’s lives again, but you suppose it shouldn’t surprise you. It’s not like you’ve known either of them over the past few years.

But Carmilla’s the only reason Mattie would show up like this. She’s the only thing Mattie cares about enough to make a visit.

“What has she told you?” you ask.

As worried as you are about whatever horrible answers are about to come out of her mouth, you want to know. You want to know how Carmilla has been feeling about all of this. How much she hates you. If she has any hope for you at all.

“Oh, she hasn’t told me anything at all. That’s what was worrying me.”

You can’t blame her for worrying. You’re just as surprised that Carmilla hadn’t taken the opportunity to curse your name to someone.

“Carm has never been a very good liar,” she continues. “So it wasn’t hard to figure out she was hiding something. And since it was clearly affecting her I decided to figure things out myself.”

You don’t bother asking how she figured it out. She most likely won’t tell you anyway. She’ll just give you one of her trademark vague answers.

And even though you’re not shocked to hear all of this is affecting Carmilla it still hurts. You never wanted to make things worse for her again.

“Okay, great.” Maybe you’re getting defensive but it’s best to always have your guard up with Mattie. “You figured out that I’m sort of back in the picture. But why are you here? To tell me we’re both foolish and that I better stay away from her?”

She chuckles like she can’t believe this entire situation. “I do agree that you’re both foolish. And I believe that for two girls who used to supposedly be strictly best friends you have more emotional baggage together than most divorced couples.”

Supposedly? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This whole ordeal is on the fast track to the kind of broken heartedness I thought you only saw in soap operas yet you two seem to have down to a science. I’m not here to keep you away from her though.”

“Why?” you all but growl out that question.

All she wanted years ago was for you to not be a part of Carmilla’s life, and you’re suspicious of whatever caused this change.

She’s using her hands as she talks in a way that makes this seem more like business than your personal life. “I’m not one to waste my breath. It’s been a long three years and yet somehow you two still end up in each other’s lives. And while that’s vomit-inducing to think about, I’m not stupid enough to believe that either of you is going to let go of this.”

She moves closer to the door again, circling you slightly as she goes. It’s like a predator sizing up its prey before going in for the kill. And it pisses you off. It makes is seem like this is all just entertaining for her while it’s something that’s been keeping you up at night.

“Then what’s your point?”

“Mircalla has done a wonderful job of digging herself into a hole over these past few years on top of everything life has thrown her way. But she was on the mend when you showed up again.”

“I’m still not seeing your point.”

You don’t want someone reminding you how bad you’ve made Carmilla’s life. You do that enough on your own. And you certainly don’t want to hear it from Mattie of all people.

She’s not exactly Miss Innocent either.

“My point is that she’s bound to go off and self-destruct, and I will be holding you accountable.”

“So this is supposed to be some don’t-hurt-my-little-sister talk?”

“This isn’t a discussion. This is a reminder. I’m leaving this be for now because I won’t listen to Carm’s whining otherwise. But the minute this blows up again I can assure you that I will not let the end result be pretty for you.”

You almost ask if that’s a threat, but you know she’ll deny it. She’ll call it something else like “offering you an understanding” or “giving you a glimpse of what’s ahead”.

Anything to make it sound less menacing than she really intends.

“Message received. Now get out.”

You can tell a sarcastic response is on the tip of her tongue but she manages to hold it back as she exits your dorm.

She leaves and you’re not sure whether you should be scared or sad.

But instead all you feel is anger.

You’re furious that she somehow seems to think she’s better than you when she’s had her own hand in all of this.

You’re sick of people lecturing you on how you should be feeling and what you should or shouldn’t be doing. You’re sick of people telling you this won’t end well, and you’re sick of believing it.

You haven’t had Carmilla on your mind nonstop just for this to end badly anyway. You didn’t go back to that club to try and talk to her again for you both to be miserable. You’re not letting this affect you so much so that you can just throw everything away.

You’re pissed off, but you’re also more determined to fix things than ever.

* * *

Determined as you are, you would agree that this was a terrible idea.

Between paying the cover charge to get into The Siren’s Den again and shelling out the money for a private room with Carmilla, who’s apparently quite the commodity around here, you’ll be lucky if you can buy yourself food for the rest of the month.

The money isn’t the worst part of this plan though.

Carmilla won’t be happy you’re even in the club again, nonetheless buying privacy with her.

You’re angry enough not to care.

She doesn’t get to push you away when she’s been basically stalking you at your dorm.

And if Mattie can just butt into your life and threaten you on her behalf than you think you’re entitled to discussing that with her. Even if you really just want to yell about it.

You’ve been taking the blame for everything over the past month or so but you tried your best and had your reasons so you’re done with being treated like you’re some monster who wanted to make everyone miserable.

The door clicks open and your eyes flit up for the briefest second before you pin your gaze to the floor again.

All you caught was a glimpse of sheer stockings leading into a garter belt underneath her black silk robe and you already feel dirty for looking at her.

She was your best friend. You’re pretty sure it’s wrong to see her like this.

Your heart hammers inside your chest as you get nervous. Every rant you had prepared slips your mind for a long moment as you both remain frozen, and you still don’t dare to look at her.

In the next moment you get an eyeful of her as she prods your shoulder so you’re leaning against the back of the couch. Before you can even think she’s straddling your hips, her face looking down to you and her chest so close your nose almost brushes her pale skin.

Your mouth goes dry; you have nothing to say to this. You’re not sure there’s anything you could even say.

With that robe gone there’s very little left to the imagination. Not that you were trying to imagine anything to begin with.

“So this is what you’ve come to.” Her voice is low and sultry but her words are biting. “Buying my time.”

She rolls her hips hard against yours and you curse the sharp breath you intake without thinking.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell her, gesturing awkwardly to her position in your lap. “I just want to talk.”

“Talk, huh?”

She lowers herself a bit, pushing your bodies closer together and swiveling her hips against you. You try to tell yourself that it’s the actions getting you hot, and it has nothing to do with Carmilla being the one performing them.

Her lips brush your ear as she speaks, “Because you seem a little tongue-tied, cutie.”

You can’t figure out where to start, so she takes that as her cue to keep grinding against you. The friction in your lap coupled with the repeated pressure to your chest renders you speechless, which is what you assume Carmilla is trying to achieve.

You hate yourself for almost enjoying this.

“You know, I could probably consider you showing up here again harassment.”

That snaps you back to yourself. Because you certainly have some things you can say to that.

But you’re not doing this while she’s still trying to control your body.

Gripping her waist you roll her sideways so she’s lying down on the couch. You turn to hover above her, propping yourself up by gripping your hands into the soft leather of the armrest just inches past the top of her head. In the shift you wound up between her legs with them still bracketing your hips from when she been straddling you not a moment before.

It’s not ideal, but now she’d have to arch quite a bit to grind against you and you don’t think she’ll go for such a dramatic movement.

Your hair hangs down curtaining your faces and you’re both breathing heavily. It’s the first time you meet her eyes and she certainly seems puzzled by the way you’ve turned things. Even so, in the long pause that follows your gaze is so tightly locked you're not sure either of you will ever be able to look away.

It doesn’t seem right to be so close to her after all this time. Especially like this. This isn’t friendly and joyful. This is upset and frustrated and desperate. But feeling the warmth from her body ad hearing her breathing is still oddly familiar.

You’re just glad she doesn’t seem angry because you’re pretty sure this is the kind of thing security could throw you out over.

“You want to talk about harassment?” you accuse. “Then do you want to start explaining your visits to my dorm?”

Her eyebrows quirk up, and she knows she’s been busted. She goes to say something, but you aren’t actually looking for an answer.

“Or should we discuss your sister showing up at my dorm and threatening me?”

Your tone sounds more menacing then it has been in a long time. You’re just so frayed by all of this that you can’t help but find yourself at this point.

Now she seems genuinely surprised. She probably didn’t even know that Mattie was aware you were back. You were happy that you managed to shut her up but now you really wish she’d say something.

That maybe she would tell you all of this was because she wants you back in her life too.

She bites her lip like she’s debating whether or not to say what she’s thinking.

“Did she hurt you?”

The words seem to echo throughout the room like someone just dropped a weight to a metal floor. You've been so certain that every part of her hates you that you weren't expecting her softer side to bleed through. But it has and you know you have to jump on it or you risk letting her go again.

It’s clear that she despises herself for asking, for still caring about you. And that hurts you.

But at the same time you cling desperately to the notion that she still doesn’t want you harmed. At least not by anyone other than her.

Just like that all of your fight is gone.

You push off the armrest and sit back on your heels. It’s rather awkward that you’re still seated between her legs, but there’s a bit more distance between you two now as she remains lying down.

You deliberately have to try and ignore how inviting she looks. Her wild dark hair fans out across the leather and her chest continues to rise and fall with heavy breaths.

Then you notice her scars and you once again can’t find the will to look at her. There aren’t a lot of them and they aren’t glaringly obvious with how they’ve healed over yet it’s still too much for you.

You were the only one to learn the story of every mark. She’d once been willing to reveal such personal things to you. Now you don’t feel you deserve to see them. That side isn’t something shared with you anymore, and the circumstances that you’re seeing them under say enough about why you should look away.

“She didn’t hurt me,” you confirm, your voice so much weaker now. “But why do you care?”

“I wish I knew,” she admits quietly.

She sits up, drawing her legs back away from you and towards her chest so she can rest her forearms on her knees.

“If you still care about me then why are we like this?” you counter, though the question is rhetorical. “What can be done to fix this? Should I say I’m sorry? Because I am sorry, Carm. I’m so, so sorry for how everything turned out. And I’m sorry I played a part in that.”

You hear a small scoff, prompting you to repeat yourself, “If you have to hear it again, I’ll say it again. I’m sorry.”

The silence that followed starts to crumble your resolve. You can feel tears trying to push their way out of your eyes. Your hands that had been awkwardly placed in your lap this whole time don’t want to stay put. You just want to wrap your arms around Carmilla and desperately hug the woman you have missed so much these past few years.

“But?”

It’s just one word yet Carmilla manages to make it heartbreaking.

“What?” you ask, not sure what she’s getting at. Your eyes are locked onto each other’s faces and you’re trying so hard to read Carmilla’s expressions you’re having a hard time drawing conclusions.

“Admit it.”

“Admit what?” Words are sticking in your throat now, and you can tell Carmilla is feeling the same effect.

“That you would make the same choices all over again.”

Everything freezes for a moment, the room deadly quiet except for the soft music.

You want to think Carmilla is wrong now that you know your choices had led you two here. But she’s right. You try not to think about what you have long since deemed the worst night of your life, and you know she would have done the same thing.

You regret where your decision has brought the two of you, but you don’t regret the decision itself.

But to Carmilla it’s all the same in the end.

“You’re right,” your voice breaks seeing the resignation in Carmilla’s eyes at the confession. You move off your heels and sink into the couch, resting against the back of the couch even though your head is still turned to face her. “It’s not what you want to hear, but I wouldn’t change my choice.”

It’s quiet again and you can tell that Carmilla doesn’t want to be here. You just stare at each other, wondering how you’d wound up in this position. You can see how defeated she looks, not just by this conversation but by life in general. You hate to think about what this woman has been through in all your time apart.

The song changes and Carmilla’s mask slams back into place.

She tries to go right back to just being some stripper to you, moving toward you as if to climb over you again.

She’s kneeling right next to you, but before she can swing her legs over your waist again you place a gentle hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Go.” Seeing the hesitancy and confusion, you reiterate, “Don’t stay just because I paid. If you don’t have anything else to say, then go.”

Carmilla seems like she expects you to still be angry, to want to argue about all of this. But you can’t bring yourself to back to the rage you’d felt before. So instead you’re giving her an escape route.

You want so desperately for things between you two to be fixed. But it isn’t something you can force. Carmilla should help repair this because she wants to, not because she feels like she has to.

Maybe she needs to take this a lot slower than you do.

When you were younger you thought Carmilla was so amazingly strong. And you don’t doubt that she still is, even if she can’t see herself that way. But being strong for so long always comes at a price and Carmilla is still paying hers.

So maybe the timing still isn’t right. Even though that doesn’t mean you both don’t want this.

“Have you missed me?” It sounds like Carmilla is on the verge of crying and that’s enough to bring you there, tears pooling at the bottom of your eyelids.

“Like someone cut a hole in me.”

Only then do you realize how true that is.

For years Carmilla had been such an important person in your life. You learned so much about yourself and about the world just by being friends with her.

And you’d parted in such a tragic way that only made things ache even more.

You have a good group of friends and a great life going for you. But that role of best friend has been empty for years, with no one able to fill in where Carmilla had been so deeply rooted. She knew all the parts of you in a way no one else has.

“I want this to work,” you mumble. You know it’s up to her at this point, but you want it to be clear where you stand.

“I still want to hate you so much,” Carmilla breathes.

“But if you can’t then there’s still something here to salvage.”

“Don’t come here again.” It’s not a warning; it’s a plea.

“Will you come to me?” you ask. You thought she had been coming around, and now can’t stand the idea of having to never see her again.

A chuckle escapes her lips. It’s a dark one you know she uses to laugh at herself, especially when she thinks she’s being ridiculous. “I don’t think I can stay away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we get to see where they go from here.
> 
> From now on I'll be giving updates on this story (like warnings if I'm going to be posting a chapter late such as this one) on my tumblr: lightaverseoctogenarian.tumblr.com. I figure this is kind of the best way to do this. You guys can also feel free to ask me things over there.


	5. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter I've ever written, and it's mostly just very awkward, bantering hollstein

“Carm, where are we going?” you ask tentatively, though you don’t really expect an answer.

After all it’s been more than twenty minutes and she still hasn’t explained why she showed up at your house at three in the morning and convinced you to sneak out. Or why the two of you seem to be walking to the park several blocks away.

You just know you’re glad you grabbed a jacket because you don’t think your tank top and flannel pants would’ve kept you warm enough on this cool summer night. Carmilla, on the other hand, is still in jeans and some band t-shirt like she never even got ready for bed.

“We’re almost there,” is all she says.

Sure enough, you wind up wandering into the park. Carmilla leads you toward a small clearing you never really paid much attention to and sits down on a nearby bench.

You join her, and for a moment it’s peaceful. The streets and usual sounds of suburbia are quiet, allowing the two of you to hear the crickets and the running water of a stream nearby. It’s dark and kind of sketchy out, but you feel safe with Carmilla around.

Your nervous energy catches up with you quickly though. “My dad is going to be pissed if-”

“Laura, relax,” she tells you. “You need to live a little.”

You want to protest that and claim that following your dad’s rules hasn’t held you back. But then you think of all the fun things you’ve done with Carmilla that wouldn’t have his approval.

He has no idea about the time you snuck out for a midnight movie premiere with Carmilla. He doesn’t know about that time you two took a swim in the fountain outside your school after you’d accidentally knocked Carmilla into it. He’s clueless to the multiple occasions where Carmilla stayed over without you asking for permission.

You don’t regret any of those instances, but you still haven’t figured out what the point of this excursion is.

“Why-?”

You barely even get to start the question before Carmilla is pointing up.

Even though you’re getting annoyed at her, you humor her by studying the sky silently with her for a few minutes. You’re about to criticize her philosophizing and fantasizing ways when you think you see something streak across the sky.

“Was that a shooting star?”

She cracks a grin. “Tonight’s a meteor shower. This urban wasteland still won’t give us a great view, but this is the best spot around here that I could think of.”

Yeah, that totally sounds like Carmilla. Dragging you out in the middle of the night to watch some astronomical phenomenon.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think this was cool though. You’ve never seen a meteor shower before. And you’ve had enough on your mind lately that it’s nice to simply sit back and watch this.

You’re comfortable enough with Carmilla that you don’t even have to keep up a conversation with her. She’s plenty entertained looking for the occasional beam of light.

It’s not exactly a characteristic of yours to be so quiet though.

So after a little while one of her hands comes to rest on your shoulder and she squeezes it gently.

And that’s when it clicks to you.

There is no question that Carmilla would want to see this meteor shower. And you’re sure she would want to bring you along. But there’s a reason she didn’t discuss this with you in advance and there’s a reason she’s quiet instead of telling you all those fascinating mythologies about the stars and space you know she has stored in her brain.

She wanted to surprise you to cheer you up.

And she’s not talking because she won’t push you.

But she knows you always feel a little down around this time of the year since it’s right around the anniversary of your mom’s death.

You made your peace with her passing long ago, yet you still tend to go into a slight period of mourning. You likely wouldn’t if it weren’t for your dad. You don’t blame him for always being so upset around this time, and you would never criticize him for it. But that usually is what brings you down more than anything.

It’s a constant reminder and it makes you almost feel guilty for moving on and being happy.

You lift your hand to settle on top of Carmilla’s for a moment.

“Thank you,” you breathe out.

“No big deal.”

But it’s a big deal and you both know it.

You find yourself in high spirits as the meteors gradually melt away to the rising sun. The two of you watch orange and golden light begin to make the world around you glow. Almost no words have been exchanged in hours and neither of you minds one bit.

You hate to be the one to break the serenity.

“I need to get home,” you try not to emphasize ‘need’ too heavily even though you mean it. If you really had a choice you’re not sure you would leave anytime soon.

Knowing how your dad is, Carmilla doesn’t hesitate to get up and stretch out her limbs, “I’ll walk you back.”

“Your house is in the other direction.”

She shrugs. “I’m not going home anyway.”

You can’t say you’re surprised, but you ask anyway, “Why not?”

“Willy Boy snitched on me again.”

At this point you don’t need to ask what he snitched about. Apparently, Carmilla’s mother rarely gets mad if she is caught skipping class or back-talking teachers. Her mom wasn’t even that angry the one time Carmilla went home from a party completely wasted.

Her mother doesn’t like you one bit though. And so whenever Will reports back to her about Carmilla being around you, her and Carmilla get so pissed at each other it’s like that house is breaking into World War III. The one reason you don’t loathe Mattie is because you know that even though she doesn’t like you either she almost always takes Carmilla’s side.

You would feel bad but since your dad doesn’t like Carmilla, the two of you long ago decided you wouldn’t let these issues bother either of you.

“How bad was it?”

“Thankfully Mattie was home. Apparently the two of them were already in an argument about something having to do with Mattie leaving for college. So maman’s wrath went more toward that dispute.”

Just thinking about the whole situation infuriates you. You’re sick of people trying to keep you from being friends. You’re sick of her mom being so terrible about it and you’re sick of lectures from your dad.

“Sit,” you tell her, motioning to the seat she had just risen from.

“What?”

“I’m not going home yet either.”

“Laura-”

“I’m not going,” you insist, so she sits herself back on the bench. “It was so hard to get over my mom being gone when I was younger. I finally learned to live without her and be happy even though she’s gone. But every year I feel like my dad just drags me down with him.”

You don’t have to put it into words for her to be able to tell you feel bad for saying that. “It’s okay to feel that way. And it’s okay to not want to be around that.”

“I don’t want to go back and mourn her just because he makes me feel like I _have_ to. She wouldn’t want that. She’d be happy I can function just fine.”

It’s the first time you’ve admitted such things and it just feels so relieving. You hate to think about how you aren’t really affected by your mom’s absence anymore. But Carmilla doesn’t make you feel judged for it. She’s able to assure you that it’s been long enough that you’re completely justified.

“Well, then you are welcome to stay on this bench and avoid life with me for as long as possible.”

So you do.

The two of you sit there for several more hours. Due to the early morning trip you both fall asleep along the way, leaning against each other so neither of your bodies slump onto the rough wood of the bench.

Unsurprisingly you wake up before Carmilla and just watch people come and go through the park.

You see joggers and people walking their dogs. You see two friends out for some exercise together and wonder if they have to deal with as much shit as you and Carmilla have to just to have a friendship.

When the creature of the night eventually stirs she’s less than thrilled by how bright and sunny it has gotten. But she continues to stay on the bench and just watch people with you. Even a hot summer morning that you know she despises is more appealing than leaving the little fantasy world you guys are in on that bench.

The two of you only finally leave because your stomachs are growling for food. You go to a diner where you ignore the calls from your father and Carmilla turns her phone off after just one text from her mother.

You waste the rest of the day away and neither of you return home until the sun has set.

Your dad is furious and lectures you for over an hour.

But to you it’s worth it.

* * *

 

It all starts with a text message.

You’d given Carmilla your number the night you showed up at the club in hopes that she’d contact you, but you’re still taken aback by a message from her lighting up your phone on your desk.

You freeze when you read the name, unsure of how to react.

On the one hand, you’re about to dive for the device in desperation to read whatever it is she’s sent you. But on the other hand this has you ridiculously nervous and you can feel your hands starting to sweat even though it has barely been ten seconds since the text came through.

Of course your curiosity wins out, and the next thing you know you’ve flown from your bed to your desk chair and are unlocking your phone at an embarrassingly fast rate.

_**Carmilla (11:52 PM):** Hey_

Hey?

Seriously? You nearly launched yourself into cardiac arrest for that?

You understand where she’s coming from; you wouldn’t know what to say in her position either. But now what in the name Minerva McGonagall are you supposed to reply to that with?

You figure two can play at that game and you might as well let her know you’re here for further conversation if she wants it.

_**Laura (11:53 PM):** Hey_

No reply comes through for several minutes and you hope she’s trying to think of something to say. This is already beyond awkward yet you still want this to work. You’re not going to give up just because of awkwardness.

You’re about to come up with something completely random and pointless to send her just for the sake of trying when another message comes through.

_**Carmilla (11:59 PM):** Did I wake you?_

You almost laugh at the question. It’s not uncommon for you to be up this late, but Carmilla had always been more of a night owl than you. And you figure she’s probably still at work, texting you in her downtime.

At first you almost send a simple “no”. That won’t help this cause at all though since Carmilla is being close to useless here.

_**Laura (12:01 PM):** Nope. Just got back from a friend’s and was getting ready for bed_

You’d been with LaF and Perry; happily eating some brownies Perry had leftover from some floor don event. Though your mood had soured slightly when LaF had started teasing you for incessantly checking your phone. You supposed they’d had a point, but you couldn’t help yourself.

It’d been about forty-eight hours since you’d left the club and you’d been beginning to really feel like a fool for ever showing up there again.

_**Carmilla (12:02 PM):** Then I’ll let you get to sleep_

If it weren’t for Betty already asleep just a couple feet away you might not have stopped yourself from hitting your desk in frustration. Just like that this conversation was going to end? You shouldn’t have given her such an out.

She was really going to run at the first opportunity she got?

Then you actually think about it and decide that maybe it’s for the best. You are kind of tired, and would rather be having a conversation with her when you’re more coherent.

And even if this was extremely brief, it was still a start.

A crappy start. But you can work with that.

_**Laura (12:04 PM):** Goodnight Carm_

You’re happy that your phone lights up one last time as you settle yourself under your covers.

_**Carmilla (12:06 PM):** Goodnight_

* * *

 

Carmilla stays in contact, the two of you texting back and forth meaningless conversations.

They’re exceedingly dull in context, you’re pretty sure one was actually just about the weather, yet they still manage to make you giddy. Carmilla was never one for small talk, so if she’s doing this then you know it’s her trying her best.

That being friends with you again is something she’s willing to really work for.

One day you end up on the topic of some horror film that’s coming out, and you’re floored when she winds up asking if you want to go see it with her.

You pretend you didn’t type a “yes” faster than you have in your life.

With your agreement to actually hang out, you quickly learn that there are topics to avoid completely with Carmilla.

The first one is her job.

When Carmilla is figuring out when to go see the movie she picks a showing in the middle of the day. You immediately think that’s stupid. First of all, who goes to the movies while it’s still light out? Second, it’s a horror movie. That’s exactly the kind of thing that should be watched in the dark of the night.

But when you suggest a night showing you can feel the hesitancy in her reply.

_**Carmilla (1:37 PM):** Can’t do anything after 7_

You aren’t even thinking when you try to push it.

_**Laura (1:37 PM):** Why not?_

_**Carmilla (1:38 PM):** I’m busy every night…_

She leads you to the conclusion without saying it.

You feel like an idiot, but at the same time you’re confused. What’s the big deal about her job? You already more than know what it is, and it’s not like you’re about to judge her for doing what she needs to make a living.

There’s that journalistic part of you that wants to ask why it’s a taboo considering she was straddling your lap at said job all of a week ago.

Then again, maybe that’s exactly why she doesn’t want to talk about it.

So you hold back your prying questions, desperate not to drive her away.

The two of you agree to meet at the theatre at two o’clock the next day.

You expect the rest of the day to drag on forever in anticipation, but instead it almost like it’s too soon that you’re kicking mindlessly at some fallen leaves as you wait outside the theatre for Carmilla.

She appears strolling down the street, sticking out in her all-black attire. She stops in front of you and it’s tense for a moment. You want to greet her with a hug, but get the sense that that might be crossing a line. You hate having so many boundaries with her. You’ll deal with all of them if it keeps her around though.

It’s still pretty quiet between the two of you as you buy tickets and snacks and head into the theatre.

In an attempt to make conversation you comment about one of the stupid advertisements on the screen while you wait for previews, and are relieved when Carmilla goes with it.

You’re glad a movie is the first time you’re hanging out because it gives you something to talk about. It almost feels like a bad first date, but you immediately push that thought from your head.

“Cupcake, you’re gonna tear the armrest out.”

You hadn’t noticed your death grip on the plastic until Carmilla’s whisper reached your ears. So far you hadn’t found the movie that scary, but it was currently one of those moments when you’re just waiting for something awful to pop out and the anticipation is killing you.

You turn to look at her; surprised she’s initiating a conversation she doesn’t have to. Her eyebrow is raised, making it clear she’s finding you more entertaining than the movie.

Suddenly a shriek sounds on screen, causing you to flinch since you’d been so distracted.

You hadn’t even flinched _that_ badly, yet you accidentally tipped your popcorn out of your lap and all over the floor.

“Shut up,” you warn Carmilla, seeing the smirk on her face and knowing a comment is imminent.

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

You glare at her smug expression and reach over to steal some of her popcorn. Likely just to tease you, she holds the bag away. You huff and meet her eyes, which remain pretty hard to read. But since she doesn’t seem angry, you lunge for the bag again.

When you miss again, she lets out a small chuckle before holding it for you to pick from.

It’s all very ironic, considering she always used to steal your food and now the tables have turned.

Seeing the popcorn offer as somewhat of an olive branch, you study her face as you grab some of her food and start eating it. She’s watching you just as closely through the faint light from the screen. You’re both clearly still getting used to having each other around again.

The rest of the movie is much more interesting with Carmilla’s running critique.

She complains about pretty much everything, and you can’t exactly blame her. The acting isn’t great and the plot is borderline ridiculous when you think about it. In some cases you may have found the commentary annoying, but this time you’re grateful for every word she shares with you.

The two of you were getting along so well throughout the movie that you don’t really want to part with her. It’s the first time in a long time that you two aren’t fighting and you feel so much lighter.

“So…do you maybe want to go and grab some ice cream?” you ask tentatively as you walk out of the theatre to see the quickly setting sun.

She shakes her head and your heart drops. “You and your sweet tooth. I can’t. I gotta run.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sorry, cutie. I have bills to pay.”

You’re suddenly hit with the reminder that she has work.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Don’t mention it.”

* * *

 

The second topic that you find is off limits is her scars.

That doesn’t come as a shock to you in the slightest. You already had no intention of bringing them up any time soon because that is exactly the kind of thing she would no doubt hold back from you completely.

Scars are something intimate enough to share with someone even without the crazy history you have.

You never thought she’d be so insistent about hiding them from you though. It’s not like you don’t know how they got there, but you suppose that could be all the more reason.

It only takes a couple of days for the two of you to wind up hanging out again, which is a relief. It seems that Carmilla may actually be just as enthusiastic about rebuilding your friendship.

You invite her to an open mic night in one of the student lounges. Carmilla clearly finds this strange when you ask her but it is the safest idea you have. That way you aren’t just inviting her to your dorm to hang out since you two aren’t quite back on that level yet. And even if the performances are bad there is still a distraction if awkwardness ensues.

You try to ignore how much you hate having to think about all those factors.

Carmilla shows up right on time for the event to start and you wonder if she’s gotten more punctual over the years or if she’s just not comfortable enough with you yet to be her lazy self and arrive late.

And you totally don’t stare at her for a second because she’s in rather tight dark purple pants and a black leather jacket.

Nope, she doesn’t look hot at all.

“Open mic night?” Carmilla asks and you almost laugh. It’s typical of her to drop the greeting to look at you like you’re nuts.

“I mean, there’s free food,” you point out. “Isn’t that a good enough reason to show up?”

She looks you up and down as though she can think of a better reason. Had this been four years ago she probably would’ve voiced that. Instead she just takes in your button-up and jeans, which you can’t imagine is that much of a sight.

“I suppose so,” she responds simply instead.

The two of you make your way over to the small buffet to fill your plates as some guy starts playing his acoustic guitar and singing some song you’ve probably heard dozens of times on the radio. You grab seats in the back to get away from the handful of people fangirling over the singer.

As the two of you eat you exchange small talk (mostly you blabbering on about your classes since Carmilla doesn’t seem to want to talk about her life) in between observing different performances. None of them are too terrible until one girl gets on stage with her book of personal poetry in hand.

Her poem starts out just fine, but gets very Fifty Shades of Grey very fast.

You catch Carmilla’s eye and you both glance to the stage and back to each other. You’re caught between laughter and mortification at the things this girl is saying.

Everyone seems to be desperately waiting for her to stop, and you’re relieved when Carmilla nudges you and nods over to a different part of the lounge.

You’re confused but don’t question her as you guys move farther away from the makeshift stage, dumping your garbage in the trash on the way. She leads you to a pool table a few people just vacated and begins setting up a game.

It gets easier to drown out the girl’s expression of her crazy sex fantasies as Carmilla walks closer to you so you can hear her over the words coming from the microphone.

“You play?”

You shake your head in response. Despite there being multiple pool tables on campus you’ve only played a couple of games with LaF in all the time you’ve been at Silas.

“Do you know how at least?”

“I know the rules,” you clarify. “I’m just not very good.”

“You better not be hustling me, cutie.”

On the one hand you loathe the fact that she is still using ridiculous nicknames for you. On the other hand she’s teasing you and you can’t help but take that as a good sign.

Carmilla does a shit job of breaking, which makes you laugh a little. You get hopeful that you might not totally embarrass yourself, but it turns out that aside from breaking she’s pretty good. Or you’re just really terrible. Either is a definite possibility.

You manage not to lose terribly so the two of you decide to play another game. Carmilla winds up bending at an awkward angle to make a shot. Each time she goes to do so, her loose hair falls in front of her face. She tries twitching her head to flick it away from her face. When that fails a frustrated hand tucks the bunch of locks behind her ear.

And that’s the first glance you get of the thick scar you very well know runs along a decent part of the side of her head.

It brings memories rushing back and you lose yourself staring at it.

You don’t notice Carmilla sinking her shot, but when she rises to her full height she catches your gaze and is confused for a moment before realizing why you’ve frozen.

All the thoughts in your head are pushing all these questions you have for her forward. She quickly puts her hair back into place and then she’s biting her lip like she is absolutely dreading your incoming inquisition. It takes a lot of willpower to not comment and simply gesture to the pool table as if to say, “Go on”.

She goes to take another shot, but completely misses her mark as she’s startled from her concentration by the sudden burst of metal music from the band that has taken the stage.

She glares at the musicians as you grin at her misfortune and go to take your turn. You manage to sink one but it left you in terrible position that makes you unsurprised you miss your next attempt.

Done with your turn, you spin around to look to Carmilla who has somewhat rolled up the sleeves of her jacket without even thinking. You’ve seen her arms bare more than once in the past month or so, and you don’t think twice about the sight.

Carmilla is clearly still worried about you bringing up her scars though as she realizes they’re exposed and abruptly pushes her sleeves back down to hide the one you may have been able to see.

Things are going to get awkward really fast at this rate so you pretend you don’t notice and walk up to her. You’re standing pretty close so that you don’t have to yell over the death sounds that band is making, causing Carmilla’s eyes to lock onto you in that way that you can never quite tell what she’s thinking.

“You know, I think those lyrics may actually be more depressing than those books you read,” you jab.

“Please never compare such great works to these lackwits again.”

“Admit it, you’re having fun. Even if this is slowly making us both go deaf.”

If possible, her gaze intensifies. “Maybe I am.”

Only later on do you realize that it’s way after seven o’clock and she’s hanging out with you. You manage to subtly find out it’s her night off work.

And she had agreed to spend it with you.

* * *

 

The third topic to stay far away from is love lives.

Even though you and Carmilla had been making random plans with each other for almost a month at this point, you’re still yet to be truly alone with her and all these boundaries are still in place.

It’s the weekend before finals, meaning it’s also the weekend before the semester ends and everyone gets to leave for a month of winter break.

So you and your group of friends decide to throw a big Christmas party as a last hurrah. And you decide you want to invite Carmilla, which is met with quite a bit of protesting.

Perry is outraged that you wanted to bring the woman who had inadvertently caused her to be rather violently threatened by the one and only Matska Belmonde. You can’t exactly blame her, but you promise Carmilla won’t try and strangle her (which maybe you shouldn’t guarantee since Carmilla isn’t exactly the definition of a people person).

Danny is hesitant to start an argument with you. She doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know she disapproves though. She’s looking at you like you’re nuts, and when you let it slip that you’ve already hung out with Carmilla a bunch of times she looks ready to hit something.

“I say the more the merrier,” Kirsch rises to your defense.

Granted he knows a hell of a lot less about your whole situation with Carmilla so it’s easy for him to say that, but you’re still going to take that argument and roll with it.

“Come on, guys,” you plead. As much as you hate that it’s like you’re asking permission for Carmilla to come when they all get to invite whoever they want, you want them to be okay with it. “It’s the holidays. I don’t want to argue. So if you really don’t want her here I won’t invite her.”

“I’m down with it,” Kirsch agrees immediately.

LaF shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Perry flourishes her hands exasperatedly. “As long as no one threatens to pull me apart again.”

You turn to Danny knowing she’s hating this yet feels like there isn’t much she can do about it. Her eyes say it all: she thinks it’s a horrible idea.

She can’t bring herself to agree, so she just says, “I won’t stop you.”

You figure this is the best you’ll get from them so you go about seeing if Carmilla is around.

Which is still pretty awkward since it involves her work schedule.

You’ve tried to make it clear to her that you don’t care that she’s a stripper. It’s not your place to judge what she does to make a living. And it has done nothing to change how much you still want your friend back.

No matter how much you try and let her know that she stills dodges such discussion like the plague.

Apparently she took off the entire week leading up to the holidays as well as the week of them. You’re so happy she’s free you don’t even think about why she took off so much work.

You didn’t think it would be difficult to get her to agree, but she doesn’t seem too keen on the idea of meeting all your friends. She also wasn’t happy when you informed her the party would be an ugly Christmas sweater theme so she has to wear one.

You manage to talk to her into it by complaining about how you two won’t see each other for a month with you heading home.

She claims you owe her for this but you doubt she’ll actually cash in on that.

You’re not even fazed when she shows up in the lobby of your dorm not in a Christmas sweater.

“Let me guess,” she says as she strolls over to you. “That is the same Christmas sweater you wore when you were like twelve and it still fits.”

“Oh please,” you shoot back. “Like you didn’t miss a growth spurt or two. At least I remembered one.”

“What a shame. I guess I just didn’t have the time to find one.”

“I thought that might be a problem for you.” That sentence barely leaves your lips before she groans at where this is going. “So I picked one up for you. Come on, it’s upstairs.”

She glares at you as she follows. “You really didn’t have to.”

“You had your chance to at least pick your own sweater. Now you get to wear my pick whether you like it or not.”

“You can’t force that thing onto me, cupcake.”

“No, I can’t. But I can withhold your Christmas present.”

Carmilla stops dead in her tracks. Hearing the halt of her footsteps, you turn to look at her to find her staring at you in what almost seems to be wonder. You’ve missed getting that look from her.

“You got me a present?”

She almost sounds kind of overwhelmed and it breaks your heart. For all you know, she may not have gotten a single present in these past few years. And now you, her estranged best friend, are giving her one even if you’re pretty sure she still hates you from time to time.

You try to downplay everything, “I mean, it’s nothing big. I just figured…you know?”

Of course she doesn’t know.

You don’t even know.

Neither of you understand what your relationship to each other is or what you’ve been doing hanging out. Are you barely acquaintances still? Are you friends? Sometimes you think you could still hate one another? The only thing you two seem to know is that you don’t want to stop whatever this is.

“Thank you,” she all but whispers before you make it to the stairwell and begin your ascent to the third floor.

When you make it into your room you realize that even though the door is left open, this is the first time you’ve been alone with Carmilla since the last time you were at the club.

The idea makes you nervous at first, but it’s completely forgotten as you pull Carmilla’s sweater out of your closet and try to suppress a laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You can’t help but start laughing as Carmilla glares at the pinkish-red sweater in your hands.

“It’s so fitting. You’ve got to.”

You decide not to point out that the face she’s making is very reminiscent of that of Grumpy Cat in a Santa hat on the sweater.

She must still be grateful you got her a Christmas present because she snags the fabric out of your hands and disappears into the bathroom to change. It’s barely a minute before she returns in her new outfit. You manage to keep from laughing but you know you’re grinning like an idiot.

“Not a word or I’m changing,” she warns. You put your hands up innocently like you weren’t going to say anything though a million comments are on the tip of your tongue. “Let’s get this over with.”

The two of you start your walk over to JP’s, a good friend of LaF who was oddly willing to host this whole shebang, apartment just off campus. Carmilla is quiet for most of the trip and you can tell her mind is elsewhere. You can hear holiday music playing as you make your way down the hallway once you’re on JP’s floor, and when you find the door unlocked you let yourselves in.

Your friends are already there and mingling with other people, which relieves you a bit. Carmilla showing up is less of a production this way.

You find a batch of Perry’s Christmas cookies in no time, leading Carmilla to shake her head at you until you shove one in her hand and insist she tries it. She admits the sugar cookies are good before picking up a gingerbread person.

“Let me guess,” she says, holding up a cookie. “Gingerbread from your three ginger-headed friends?”

Your eyebrows shoot up at that. You hadn’t introduced her to anyone yet, so how did she have any idea who your good friends were?

“How did you-?”

“Raggedy Anne over there looks terrified of me and the short-haired one keeps trying to get her to stop glancing at us. And Xena looks like she’s plotting my death.”

Thanks to her ever-so-polite nicknames it doesn’t take much to figure out who’s who. And sure enough, you catch Perry stealing a look your way only for LaF to nudge her. Then you find Danny, and yeah, she doesn’t look too happy. Kirsch is on her left talking animatedly about something but she’s busy watching you like a hawk.

“Perry’s harmless…mostly. And LaF is really chill. As for Danny…well, that one is my bad.”

Knowing how protective Danny can be and how she’d had/somewhat still has strong feelings for you, you’d still gone to her when you were upset over Carmilla. She’d seen you cry your eyes out and drink to the point of memory loss because of the dark-haired girl.

If you were in Danny’s shoes, you doubt you’d be Carmilla’s biggest fan either.

Carmilla clearly wonders how you’d made Danny dislike her so much, and even though she doesn’t ask for some reason you just start babbling the story from basically the beginning.

“Danny and I met my freshman year and then last year we like kind of almost had a thing going. I really thought I was into her but-”

“I don’t need to hear about your love affair with the Jolly Red Giant.”

You’re pretty sure you flinch slightly at the scathing remark. It’s the closest Carmilla has gotten to snapping at you in a few weeks now and triggering it again unsettles you now.

“Um…okay then,” is your grand finale to that conversation.

By the end of the night you learn it isn’t just _your_ love life that’s off the table.

For whatever reason she seems to regret losing her cool, so she makes the effort to cheer you both up again. It doesn’t take her very long considering the first thing she does is hijack control of the sound system and put on your favorite Christmas song, and it excites you enough that she still even remembers it’s your favorite.

Not long after the song ends, Kirsch is the first of your friends to approach the two of you.

“Nice to meet you…” Kirsch clearly is having trouble remembering her name, “Carm-…sexy?”

“Isn’t he a charmer?” Carmilla says under her breath, which you swat her arm for even though you’re guilty of cracking a grin.

“So, I’ll cut to the chase. My friend, Bash, over there asked me to come over and scout out if you might be into him and so as a great bro I was like-”

Your laughter cuts him off because if there’s one person you know who might be even gayer than you, it’s Carmilla. And you let him know this between laughs.

“Wait, so did you two ever…?” he gestures between the two of you and you both freeze.

You’re stunned in awkwardness and uncertainty while Carmilla seems pissed.

Realizing Carmilla is about a half a second from turning him inside out he hurriedly tries to change the topic, “I mean, have you had a girlfriend recently? Um…”

Apparently that topic isn’t much safer or possibly even worse because she takes a step toward him and while he takes the opportunity to flee, you put a hand on Carmilla’s arm hopefully to stop her from going after him.

She doesn’t chase him, but she shakes your hand off of her.

You dread the rest of the night spiraling into awkwardness. For the most part things end up being okay though. You still manage to talk to Carmilla and mess with each other almost effortlessly. The tension is only really felt when you look at one another a little too long or you wind up standing closer together than either of you intended.

And when LaFontaine and Perry try to make conversation with you two. LaF seems to perfectly enjoy trading sarcastic quips with Carmilla, but Perry still looks at her like she can’t quite figure out why you get along with her.

Danny doesn’t talk to you the entire time Carmilla is there, which you understand in a way even though it kind of offends you.

But even as you stutter over goodbyes with Carmilla as she leaves the building that night you don’t at all regret inviting her.

* * *

 

Then there’s the topic of your families.

And there’s an odd sort of limbo with this. Because talking about it on the surface level is fine. You can mention something offhand about your dad or Carmilla will have some story that involves Mattie and all of that is fine and well.

But going any deeper on the topic is a no-go.

What’s particularly different about this topic is that Carmilla isn’t the only one dodging it. You’re just as happy not to go any deeper.

You just finished your last exam and it’s not even noon yet, but you’re not leaving for the holidays until tomorrow.

Normally that would be just fine by you. All your friends have already gone home though since you had one of the last exam times. This leaves you bored out of your mind and you hate being alone so close to the holidays.

But there is one person still in the area who you know doesn’t have work.

Apparently Carmilla is just as bored and alone because she gets to your dorm in no time.

She makes herself right at home, sprawling onto Betty’s bed like she owns it. You don’t bother telling her to move, knowing she’ll probably make herself even more comfortable just to be difficult.

“Brought you something,” she tells you, pointing to the brown paper bag she had put on your desk.

You give her a questioning look, but she just gestures toward the bag again. So you plop yourself into your computer chair and open it. You pull out a small cardboard box with a bakery label and look over it skeptically, confident she’s probably pranking you in some way.

You open the box and you’re not sure how to respond. Inside sits a rather decorative cupcake that has frosting formed to make a Santa hat.

“Merry Christmas, cupcake,” Carmilla drawls, a smirk growing on her face at your dropped jaw.

It’s nothing extravagant, but you didn’t expect her to get you anything. And it’s so _her_ to get you something that feeds your sugar addiction yet takes a jab at the nickname she frequently uses for you.

You want to tackle her in a hug.

You guys still don’t exactly seem to be at that level though so instead you hurriedly go to your closet to pull out a small green gift bag.

“That reminds me,” you say, handing her the bag, which she looks at in awe. “I never got around to giving you your present at the Christmas party.”

You’re glad she didn’t get you anything huge because your gift isn’t much either. The fact that you’re even exchanging presents is enough for you though. It makes it seem like you might actually be on the right track to being friends again.

“Merry Christmas, Carm,” you say as she pulls the chocolate bars out of the bag.

When you two were younger it hadn’t take you long to learn that Carmilla really likes chocolate. It was the food she would steal from you most frequently. And she’d leave the wrappers of the ones she liked the best lying around as if to tell you to buy those more often.

It was kind of an asshole move but you could always see her perk up a little when she’d open your kitchen cabinets to find them there.

And Carmilla so rarely seemed genuinely happy that it made you not mind.

She must be remembering the same thing because she’s staring at the chocolates as though they moved through time and space to wind up in her hands.

Considering all of your history, you guess that in a way they have.

“Thank you,” she says, staring straight into your eyes.

And you’re so tempted to hug her again that you quickly move back to your computer chair before you do so on impulse.

But she just looks adorable. Miss Badass in leather pants and studded wrist cuffs is looking at a few chocolate bars like she has never seen something so valuable. She’s such a sap, and you’re admittedly weak for it.

“I wasn’t sure if you were still around,” Carmilla comments after a moment or so. “Thought you might’ve left already.”

You’re hoping and praying that she doesn’t ask about your Christmas plans. Because as much as you’d like to say that you’re sure you’re going to have a great time with your dad you know there’s a good chance this could be the Christmas you end up spending fighting with him.

“Nope. I got to take a final bright and early this morning.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“You probably would’ve enjoyed it actually.”

“Oh really?”

You only now realize how ridiculous that must’ve sounded. Carmilla probably skipped about as many tests as she took in high school. Even though she knew all the material she thought the whole idea of tests was ridiculous so she took just enough of them that she could ace them and still wind up with about a B- in the course.

“We studied all different writing throughout the ages but my professor was a real sucker for all the classics you’re obsessed with. Kipling’s one of his favorites.”

“Black as the pit and terrible as the night…” she recites half that infamous line. “Haven’t read that in a while. I probably should.”

“Well, my professor made us buy _The Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling_ which is just sitting under my bed if you want it.”

She looks over to where another book is being used as a doorstop. “Have you no respect for works of art?”

“Oh, that’s just the student handbook. It’s not important.”

“That thing’s thicker than the Bible.”

“Exactly why I haven’t even opened it.”

You fetch her the Kipling book from under your bed and she starts flipping through it, lost in the words. You leave her be, taking her distraction as an opportunity to work on all the packing you put off.

It’s odd to be able to be doing two completely different things in the same room as her, not needing to share a word. It makes her seem more familiar again. She isn’t a stranger you’re catering to.

It’s like that for a while before Carmilla’s phone lights up with a call. She picks it up fairly quickly, but you manage to catch “Mattie” on the screen.

Carmilla sighs, “I should take this.”

“No worries,” you assure her, continuing about the room.

She strides out into the hall and though she makes it far enough down the hall that her words are faint, it isn’t very challenging to make them out.

You really don’t mean to eavesdrop but so many people left already that the dorm is quiet otherwise. So it’s hard not hear Carmilla’s end of the conversation, and though you feel strange about it you wind up listening.

“Yeah, I’m with her.”

“So? You’re at work.”

“I didn’t take off two weeks we were supposed to spend together to sit around by myself.”

“I get that you have to work, that’s fine. But that doesn’t mean I have to put my life on hold.”

“Well, where else do you suggest I go?”

“Mattie, relax.”

“You’re sounding like mother.”

That statement causes you to drop the pairs of jean you had been packing. You don’t particularly like Mattie and you still think that’s a low blow.

Apparently Mattie thinks so too because the next thing you hear out of Carmilla’s mouth is, “Mattie, I didn’t-Mattie? Mattie?”

Mattie must’ve hung up because you hear a frustrated noise escape Carmilla’s escape her throat yet it’s still a minute or two before she makes her way back into your room, looking like she’d been smacked between the eyes.

Clearly Carmilla is upset but you can’t tell if she’s sad upset or angry upset. And you don’t know if you should let on that you overheard all of that. Either way you’re pretty sure you’re not the person she wants to confide in, especially since you’re likely the cause of that argument.

So you sit down on Betty’s bed with her, close enough that she knows you’re there but far enough that you’re not pushing your luck.

You have your laptop open on your thighs and you’re just scrolling through random websites while she broods. You don’t mind, you’d probably be doing this if she weren’t here anyway.

But you’re still very relieved when she eventually speaks up, “Mattie’s just being…”

She clearly doesn’t want to explain anything, and seems to feel like she needs to justify herself.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you assure her.

You don’t mind avoiding this because you don’t really want to talk about Mattie. You’ve always been able to deal with Mattie not liking you, but have always felt guilty about what that does to Carmilla.

It’s as if you lifted a weight from her shoulders.

She leans closer to you as if to see what you’re doing on your computer so you work on pulling up a random Christmas movie to watch.

She scoffs when she sees what your doing, but makes no complaints as she goes on to read Kipling while you decide on a film you hadn’t already agreed to watch with your dad over the break.

The two of you spend the day lazing around like that. It’s not until you decide you should go hunt down dinner that Carmilla chooses to leave.

“See you in a month?” even though you mean it as a statement, it comes out like a question.

You guys have already come a long way since that first night in the club, but it’s obvious things are still so far from perfect. There are so many things you haven’t settled or discussed. Something has got to give eventually.

But you’re asking for more time, for the possibility of resolving everything.

You get the feeling that you’re both already in too deep. In reality, you probably have been for years.

And you’re just hoping she wants to see this through too.

“In a month,” she echoes with a nod of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! The next chapter should be up sometime next week.
> 
> Not gonna lie, I was really nervous about their development in this chapter, but they're just so good at ignoring their problems that I felt it fit


	6. Diamond Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to Carmilla's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that trigger warnings are at the bottom of chapters if you might need to check that out quick

“Hey.” You know it’s Laura’s voice echoing off the bookshelves in the quiet library, so you don’t even have to look up from the page you’re on.

“Hey.”

“So, why are you skipping gym?”

In most cases it really shouldn’t be surprising that you’re skipping a class. Especially one where oversized toddlers get far too worked up over chasing some under-inflated ball around.

But it’s one of only two classes you have with Laura this year so you usually go. It’s entertaining to watch her get very competitive and start arguments over the slightest rules with jocks twice her height. And you get the chance to talk to her when she isn’t acting like one of those oversized toddlers, so the class isn’t so bad.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you tell her.

She slumps her back against the bookshelf across from you and slides down to sit on the floor as well.

It’s obvious she’s been at class since she’s in sneakers, a t-shirt, and some sort of running shorts. You’re always tempted to laugh when you see her dressed like this because it’s so far off from her polo shirts and sweaters.

“I just said I needed to use the restroom.”

You give her a skeptical look; your teacher is a hardass who doesn’t believe in bathroom breaks. And he has expressed this sentiment on multiple occasions.

“I said the word tampon and he let me go,” she clarifies.

“I’ve turned you into such a rebel.”

You get a grin out of her before she starts talking again, “Well, I’m not the one skipping class. If you choose a class to skip it’s usually history.”

“That’s because that woman doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Seriously, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

You drop your book into your lap and run a hand through your hair, meeting her eyes. She’s concerned and you don’t want to worry her. But you can’t explain to her why you didn’t want to go to gym.

You can’t show her the bruising on your side that you can’t risk changing in the locker room because of. You can’t tell her that it still hurts enough when just standing; nonetheless somewhat pretending you’re participating in gym (aka walking up and down the field and glaring at anyone who even thinks about passing you the ball).

“I just didn’t get enough sleep last night to deal with that ogre of a teacher,” you lie.

Actually, that’s not really a lie. Thanks to your throbbing side you didn’t exactly get a good night’s sleep and really aren’t in the mood to deal with that guy. You know that doesn’t make up for everything you’re leaving out though.

Laura reaches out toward your outstretched legs to place a hand on your calf. “Okay then. Let me know if you need anything?”

You give her a forced smile and a nod as she gets up to leave. “Of course.”

She knows you’re bluffing about everything and you don’t like lying to her, but you’re beyond grateful she doesn’t press you for explanations.

You watch her disappear around the bookcases and pushing someone away never made you feel so lonely.

* * *

Laura Hollis has crashed her way back into your life and you’re hopeless to stop her.

She basically buys you at your own workplace and manhandles you on the couch and somehow all that puts the two of you on track.

Where is this track going?

What train are you even on?

You don’t have the damnedest idea.

The two of you are so desperate for each other’s company that of course you end up hanging out frequently in no time. To outsiders, you would probably appear to be friends. But don’t friends talk about things like jobs, love lives, and families?

You know most of that is on you.

It’s always been hard for you to talk about any personal topics. Laura was the only one to ever really break through. Even now you’re frequently tempted to spill your guts to her.

You can’t do that though. You can’t depend on her like that. Because if you let yourself and you lose her again you can’t begin to imagine where you’ll wind up.

So you try not to flip through too many pages of _The Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling_. And you try not to enjoy the chocolate bars out of that little green bag too much. Though even your icy heart thaws significantly at the notion that Laura gave you your first Christmas present in years.

Mattie hasn’t spent a Christmas with you since you’ve been reunited. And you were already in a bad place with Ell last Christmas.

She still hadn’t known about the drugs but you hadn’t been clean for very long at that point. Your withdrawal had your mood all over the place, and you’d picked a stupid fight. So your Christmas present from her was a screaming match where she kept telling you that you were ruining the holidays for her.

That didn’t make you feel like a terrible person at all.

It’s probably the smartest choice to let Laura go. To not let her anywhere near those darker parts of your life. But you can’t because it seems like she might actually care about you.

And how much you care about her hasn’t been a secret in very a long time.

* * *

You’ve spent Christmas Eve alone before but this time it’s different.

In the past you felt lonely. As much as you have always loved quiet time to yourself even you could admit that spending a holiday in solitude was depressing.

But now you feel peaceful.

Because at the moment you’re alone but Mattie is due back sometime tonight and you know you’ll see Laura when she returns to school in a few weeks.

There’s an end to your loneliness in sight, and that allows you to relax.

You’re calm enough that you barely even get frustrated as you fail repeatedly at wrapping the couple of presents you got Mattie. You knew you should’ve just gotten gifts bags instead of wrapping paper. But you’d seen the wrapping paper covered in high-heels and just had to get it to poke fun at her.

From the time Mattie had been sixteen she was always strutting around in heels, exuding power like she could and would crush a man. If you weren’t the person she was looking to destroy it was kind of inspiring.

You managed to finish that task so you wound up just lounging on the couch with your feet propped up on the coffee table, listening to the holiday tunes coming through the radio. It’s late enough that they’ve settled into some of the slower, jazzier songs that are some of your favorites.

A key turns in the lock of your front door and Mattie makes her way into the room.

“You’re so pensive it’s disgusting,” she quips.

You suppose she has a point considering she found you sitting around with your eyes closed and head tilted back, doing nothing but enjoying the calm moment.

“Someone’s grumpy,” you comment with a smirk as she sits herself next to you on the couch.

“People are absolute imbeciles.”

“I could have told you that.”

She notices her presents on the table and lets out a laugh. “I’m assuming those are for me.”

You nod and she reaches to pick one up but you bat away her hand with your foot. “Tomorrow morning.”

“It’s after midnight and that’s a child’s rule anyway.”

“When is the last time we actually got to enjoy a Christmas together?”

That question sobers her up enough that she retracts her hand. She tries to find the answer to that question for a quiet moment, but can’t come up with a solid one. She seems saddened by that for second, and then a small smile plays on her lips.

You assume it’s for the same reason you feel one creeping onto your face: you two are in each other’s lives again and get to share these holidays. Except now it’ll be even better because it’s just the two of you with no other family members to ruin it.

“Far too long, sis.”

“So then can we just save the presents for tomorrow? Do Christmas the way we never got to?”

“God, you’re nostalgic.”

“Yeah, but I guess you are too. Or else you would’ve told me to shut up and opened your presents already.”

The two of you still don’t wind up going to bed for another half an hour or so, too busy mocking each other and reminiscing the better parts of your childhoods.

* * *

The best thing about Christmas with Mattie is that she had no intention of being up before noon either.

So you’re very disgruntled when it’s ten in the morning and your phone going off is waking you up. You can’t even imagine who would be calling you. And you’re swearing up and down that if it is some wrong number or someone trying to sell you something blood will be shed.

Eyes still shut tightly, you fumble around for the device until you finally manage to bring it to your ear. “What?”

“Carm?”

Well, that voice wakes you up right away.

Not solely because it’s Laura, but because something also seems off. It’s Christmas and yet she isn’t already chirping her excitement about the day.

“Merry Christmas, cutie,” you sigh into the phone, probably sounding like shit at this hour.

“Merry Christmas,” she returns.

And you never thought she’d be able to make such words sound so sad. It’s clear something is wrong, but why is she calling _you_ about it? You’re the worst person to handle this. You have more issues between the two of you without anything else adding on.

If she’s calling you it’s clearly important though, so you can’t just ignore it. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t seem surprised that you just knew right off the bat that something was off. “It’s my dad.”

Dear Lord this one of those times you wish you still had alcohol in your life. It’s too early for any conversation, nonetheless one like this.

It’s clear you’re not getting back to bed any time soon. So you throw your covers off to sit up and swing your legs around to plant your feet on the floor. A shiver hits you immediately since you’re only in a tank top and panties and the wood isn’t exactly warm to bare feet.

“Gotta give me more than that,” you tell her, even though she really doesn’t.

She hasn’t seemed to want to talk about her father in the past month or so and you haven’t exactly been jumping to either. You have a feeling she didn’t just call you for a distraction though. She’d already be asking you questions if that was what she wanted.

“It’s Christmas and we just spent the last half an hour arguing. This is the _one_ time of year I want to do nothing more than spend time with him and…”

She trails off and you swear you hear a sniffle on the other end of the line.

What hurts you the most is that you don’t doubt they’re somehow arguing about you. Sure, things between Laura and her dad could have changed a lot in three years. But you know you used to be the problem between them.

Her dad was beyond overprotective yet Laura tolerated almost all of that to keep peace between them because she genuinely loved him. She tolerated the suffocating number of text messages checking on her. As far as he knew she tolerated his ridiculous curfew. She dealt with kids making fun of her for the bear spray in her backpack.

She fought for you for the longest time though.

You’d heard some of things he’d thought of you but Laura didn’t listen to him. Maybe she should have. You’ve never been able to tell yourself that though. Even you think that’s too painful to inflict on yourself.

You don’t know what you’re supposed to say, so you remain quiet and hope she keeps talking.

Thankfully, she does.

“I was just trying to text you a ‘Merry Christmas’, but he saw your name on the screen and just started freaking out. God, I can’t remember the last time he actually yelled like that.”

Trying to think about all of this so early makes you want to just go back to sleep. In a way, you get where her dad is coming from. You don’t want to admit that Laura probably got pretty hurt by you, especially since she wasn’t exactly innocent in the end.

It was never your intention to hurt her though and her dad has no right to assume he knows everything about you. He never did, but not once has it stopped him.

“Cupcake, I-” you have no idea where you’re going with that sentence so you’re almost grateful when she cuts you off.

“I just got you back.” If Laura’s voice wasn’t breaking before, it certainly is now. “I…I don’t want to give you up.”

Your blood boils at that and you just want to be so angry.

She had you years ago. You had given her every goddamn broken bit and piece of your heart and soul. And she had let it go.

But _now_ she doesn’t want to give you up?

After years of suffering she decides she wants you around no matter what?

You want to be so mad because you needed that years ago, and you don’t need her now.

But of course there’s that imbecilic, idiotic, suicidal part of you that _wants_ her. And that part wants to take a victory lap when it hears that she’s fighting with her dad on her favorite holiday because she won’t let you go again.

That part of you feels like some old wounds are finally healing over. But does that even matter if you’re just going to wind up with new wounds in the process?

“I don’t care that you still won’t call me by my real name.” She’s rambling now and even though you think you don’t want to hear it that same moronic part of you does. “I don’t care that there are so many things you won’t talk to me about. I don’t care that sometimes I think you still despise me. We’ve already come so, _so_ far.

“And so I wish that he would just _stop yelling_ because that won’t change the fact that the thought of losing you again makes me feel like I can’t breathe.”

You lie back on your mattress and bury one hand in your hair in frustration.

The only sound for more than a minute is Laura’s shaky breaths crackling through the phone.

She’s said her piece, now you’re supposed to say yours.

You don’t have anything to say though.

That nonsensical part of you is doing cartwheels at Laura’s long-winded confirmation of how much she wants whatever it is between you to work. And it could probably say all these stupid things that have long been dreams you thought you gave up on.

You can’t bring yourself to admit those things though. And you don’t have words to comfort her because you can’t talk about her dad without getting angry.

So instead you ask the very thing you’ve been wondering since you picked up the phone.

“Why me?”

“What do you mean, ‘why you’? Did I not just-”

“No, why did you call _me_? You could have called any of your ginger friends or that big puppy. They could have given you all the comforting words that I can’t. And you know that. You know I’m not the _logical_ choice at all.”

Whatever you two have is messy and complicated, not reliable or a source of comfort.

It’s like deciding to spend the night in a minefield instead of crashing at a friend’s place. A friend’s place is familiar and reliable. A minefield, even if you’ve walked it a dozen times, is unstable and uncertain.

And logically speaking, no one with half a brain would choose to go to that minefield.

So if she didn’t pick you because it’s the logical choice, she picked you because it was an emotional one.

You want her to understand that. And you want her to admit what exactly she’s feeling that drove her to call you instead of anyone else. You’re desperate to hear it from her. Because as much as you want to believe her, you aren’t sure she won’t let you go again.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly after a moment.

And really, that was the answer you were expecting.

“When you figure that part out will I get to know the answer?”

“It could take a little while.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

That should be where the conversation ends. It’s Christmas though, so neither of you seem able to end on such a depressing note. The line is quiet and you nearly fall asleep when you close your eyes instead of looking at the cheap ceiling tiles any longer.

“I’m sorry I’m ruining your Christmas too.”

Even your Grinch heart breaks a little at that. Here’s the girl always obnoxiously full of holiday cheer thinking she’s ruined it for everyone. All because her dad couldn’t wait a day or two to have this argument.

You didn’t exactly want to have this conversation, but it doesn’t make a difference to you whether it’s on Christmas or any regular Tuesday. You knew you signed up for this kind of stuff when you decided you wanted to see where things go with Laura.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” You almost tack “sweetheart” to the end of it, but her statement about not using her real name is still ringing in your ears.

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not. Days don’t start for me before noon, holidays included.”

That actually gets a breath of a laugh out of her since she’s never understood your sleep habits. “Are you doing anything with Mattie?”

The question pushes your eyebrow up even though she can’t see it. She usually tries not to bring up Mattie. And there’s a hint of worry in her voice like she hopes you’re not spending the day alone.

You also think that now having gotten all that stuff off her chest she’s just looking for something else to talk about.

So you play along. “Not much. We’re going to attempt to make a turkey.”

“ _You?_ You’re going to try and cook something?”

“Says the one who lives off of snack food.”

It’s still early for you and you’re still kind of cold, yet you’re not at all bothered by either of these things as you spend the next twenty minutes or so bantering back and forth with Laura. You get her laughing, which has never been much of a challenge for you but is more valuable when it’s making her feel better.

She pauses the conversation at one point. You hear her dad’s muffled voice asking her something. You figure he must be asking to do something fun and extending a peace treaty for the moment since she doesn’t sound upset when she returns to you.

“Thanks, Carm. I really needed this.”

“Not a problem.”

“Please don’t blow yourself up trying to make dinner.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “I’ll try my best.”

“See you soon.” It’s still so bizarre to hear her planning to see you again. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

* * *

Having a two-week break from work had been nice.

You’d gotten to see quite a bit of Mattie, which wasn’t very common. You hadn’t only spent Christmas together, but also New Year’s Eve. You’d insisted that Mattie go out, get drunk, and have fun that night. Instead she had committed to being with you for what could have potentially been a very boring sober night.

The two of you had taken to the streets for most of the night, finding different food by wandering in and out of various restaurants. And you’d stumbled across more than one small fireworks display that was questionably legal. By midnight the two of you were back in the apartment dancing around to whatever old records Mattie had lying around.

During that break you’d also wound up in contact with Laura more than intended. She’d called just to wish you a quick “Happy New Year” yet you’d wound up talking for about ten minutes before hanging up.

You were also texting each other almost every other day. It’d start with her sending you some ridiculous photo or message and evolve into some laughable debate about the supernatural or something equally random.

Now you’re back to work, and you feel great.

You’re making good money tonight and haven’t had any terrible customers. One guy you gave a lap dance to had started rambling to you about his screwed up marriage, but that’s a rather common occurrence.

A part of you is glad Silas University hasn’t been in session because that means none of Theo’s dudebros are stopping in. So you’re enjoying the last night you can guarantee they won’t be here.

Theo has still been working throughout the break though, and you still spend time wanting to turn him inside out.

You’ve finished your time on stage for the night, leaving you to wander around and pick up cash giving lap dances. You see some guy eying you from across the room and you’re on your way to go flirt yourself into some money when suddenly your arm is grabbed.

You’re prepared to deal with some customer but when that rough hand yanks at your forearm to turn you around, you find Theo smirking down at you. His grip is way tighter than necessary and you grit your teeth, half from pain and half from anger.

“What do you want, beefcake?” you snarl.

His fingers crush in a little harder, and your glare worsens in return.

“The boss wants to see you,” he tells you simply.

You twist your arm to rip it out of his grip. “Fine. But the next time you grab me like that I will put your head on a pike.”

That smirk just stays on his face like riling you up is a game to him.

You don’t stop glaring at each other until your turn a corner to head to Vordenberg’s office.

* * *

The meeting went well enough.

Or at least you think it did.

The old man could’ve been ripping you a new one for all you know. It’s far too challenging and boring to try and figure him out between his random tales that seem to be from hundreds of years ago. Somehow whatever he was saying transitioned to something about a gigantic amount of tuna and you tuned him out completely.

So you’re still not certain what you just sat through but you know it wasn’t important. He tries to sound more threatening or ominous when what he’s saying is important.

Now you’re done with work for the night and as you’re driving home you can’t stop looking at the bruise forming on your wrist thanks to that meathead.

You tried pulling the sleeves of your jacket over it multiple times but with your hands on the steering wheel they keep sliding back down just enough that you can see it taunting you. It doesn’t help that it kind of hurts whenever you turn the car.

When you finally get back to the apartment building and park, you make no move to unbuckle your seatbelt. With a big gulp your skull plops back against the headrest. You feel exhausted now and have no motivation to leave the vehicle even if being upstairs in your bed sounds way more appealing.

Seeing the dark handprint wrapped around your limb brings back memories you had put behind you. You feel like you’re going backwards and you don’t want to lose yourself in these thoughts.

It’s like you can feel your mother’s crushing hand where your flesh is continuing to swell.

You don’t keep hearing a male voice saying, “The boss wants to see you.”

Instead a dangerously calm tone echoes in your head, “My glittering girl…”

Why? Why is this coming back _now_?

This isn’t the first time you’ve gotten a bruise in these past few years. One or two were probably even from people. So why is this deciding to haunt you when you finally feel like your life might be on track?

What did you do to deserve this?

Fumbling for your phone, you almost call Laura. But right before you hit that green button you toss the device into your passenger seat.

Laura would be a great distraction. You don’t doubt that in no time the two of you would be bickering about something inane and your breathing would even out.

It’s late though, which would only lead to questions from her. Questions you can’t give her the answers to. This isn’t something you can talk to her about. It’s a topic that you have tabooed for a reason.

And to be honest, you don’t want to admit this weakness to her.

You don’t want to admit your mother is haunting you because it has been so long since it has affected you this way. You’re hands shouldn’t be trembling and you shouldn’t be hearing her voice. You shouldn’t be feeling her slim yet destructive fingers and shrinking into your seat as much as you can.

It takes several minutes until your muscles unwind and your lungs let air flow more easily. Once you regain your composure you climb out of the car and head up to the apartment. With Mattie already asleep it’s quiet aside from the creak of the floor as your weight moves across the wooden boards.

A part of you wants to wake her up. Ask her if this ever happens to her. If mother’s voice is still painfully clear in her memory. But the larger part of you doesn’t want to talk about it and prefers suffering alone.

So you pass by Mattie’s door on your way to your room, worrying you won’t easily get to sleep.

You’re so drained though you don’t even change before you crash onto your mattress and slip into unconsciousness.

* * *

You figure things must’ve gotten better for Laura after Christmas morning because of the way she called you earlier.

She’s back at Silas and spent ten minutes on the phone begging you to “get your useless behind out of bed” and go visit her. In your defense she was calling at eleven-thirty and she should really know you’re impossible before noon most of the time.

You get off the elevator at her floor and when you reach her room the door is wide open. She’s sitting on her bed shifting around like a tiny ball of energy while the Bobbsey twins are milling about near the window.

The second you step through the doorway Laura is up out of her seat and pulling you into a hug.

You’re so thrown by it at first that you don’t even hug her back.

It shouldn’t be a big deal but to you it is. Every sensible part of you is screaming to run while you can because you’ve already let Laura far too close to you again.

That’s just it though.

You’re getting closer to her again. And, in a way, that’s really what you’ve wanted in all this time.

She had been cautious, keeping her embrace rather loose in case you decided to slip away. Instead you bring your arms around her back and bring her tighter to you. You like holding her, having her hair in your face and feeling the warmth of her body radiating to yours.

That terrifies you but you’ve always been one for self-destruction so you won’t stop this.

After a moment she lets go of you and starts excitedly showing you something she got for Christmas, and you notice the redheads uncomfortably slipping out of the room.

Laura starts talking about the rest of her holiday break, and so you make yourself comfortable. You shed your jacket and sprawl yourself out on her roommate’s bed. She continues moving about the room to unpack her stuff, barely glancing at you as she moves around.

You aren’t exactly paying close attention to everything she’s saying, but you’re tuned in enough to be confused when her chatter ceases abruptly.

You shift to sit up on the bed and look at her by the closet. You notice she’s staring at you and try to meet her eyes. You can’t meet her gaze because it isn’t pinned on your face, it’s directed to your arm.

You’d forgotten about the bruise and hadn’t even thought about it when you’d ditched your jacket.

But now Laura’s staring at it and you can’t tell if her mind is with you right now or three years back in time. By the way her jaw moves slightly yet doesn’t form words, you think the latter is more likely.

“Look, creampuff,” you sigh, preparing yourself for an argument to start.

“Don’t,” she orders. And the fact that you don’t understand what she’s getting at is written all over her face.

She comes and sits down next to you. Her eyes lock onto yours as she picks up your arm from its resting place on your thigh. You suppress a shiver at the delicate prod of her soft fingers, no longer accustomed to her gentle touch.

“Does it hurt?” she asks.

You can’t tell if she means that emotionally or physically. Either way for a second it brings you back to how you felt in your car the other night.

“Not so much anymore,” you answer.

And you’re not positive the two of you are quite talking about the bruise around your wrist.

It’s quiet as she gives you back your arm and rises from the mattress. You can tell she has so many questions that she fears will drive you away. At this point they may not even be questions but rather discussions she wants to have. She probably has a right to have them too. You try not to dwell on that though.

“It was just this guy at work,” you tell her, hoping that tidbit of information may help in the slightest. “I’m okay.”

“Of course you are,” she says it under her breath as her knuckles go white around the shirt she’d just pulled out her bag to put away.

You almost reply with, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But you know exactly what that’s supposed to mean.

You’d thought you were okay when your mother was around.

And look where that landed the two of you.

“I won’t let it happen again,” you tell her and she seems like she just might snap at you because she’s heard that before too. She turns to meet your eyes again and it kills you to see that she looks scared for you. “Do you trust me?”

You can feel your heart thud inside of your chest several times before she breathes out, “I’m trying to.”

It’s not the answer you want but it’s the honest answer and you can appreciate that.

The next thing you know she’s diving back into your arms. You once again hesitate, but wrap your arms around her when you feel the way her hands are clutching at your back. She may be upset or frustrated with you, but she’s just so relieved you’re alive and with her again.

So for a moment you think about how all this time you haven’t always considered how hard everything was for her, and that maybe she had genuinely tried her best.

You don’t agree with everything she did and you haven’t been able to understand all of it.

But that imbecilic part of you is winning out, so you want her anyway.

And you’re beginning to think that she finally wants you too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: mentions of drug abuse, mentions of child abuse
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed. I'm still on track for the next chapter to be up some time next week. If you have any questions or comments, I try to reply to all comments on this story or you can message me on tumblr: lightaverseoctogenarian.tumblr.com


	7. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So things start going a little south...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is a little later than intended. This past week I have been an incoherent mess, and didn't want to give you guys a product of that. So I hope you enjoy this chapter I created while actually functional :)  
> And once again: trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter

You jab your finger against the doorbell button, suppressing the urge to simply bang on the ornate wooden door.

No one answers for a solid minute and you continue to get more and more fidgety. You can’t help but feel something isn’t right. Carmilla was supposed to meet you at the park this morning and didn’t show up. It’s typical of Carmilla to run late, but when she is she normally answers her phone at least.

You could be overreacting, but it doesn’t help that she’s been acting weirder and weirder around you lately. You’re pretty sure she’s been lying to you too. You just haven’t wanted to think much about that, because you feel bad that she believes she has to lie to you about anything.

You ring the doorbell again, and are relieved when the door is finally pulled open. You’re less relieved that it’s Mattie on the other side. You thought you wouldn’t have to see her as much now that she’s supposed to be away at college.

“Of course it’s you,” she practically growls.

“Is Carmilla here?”

“No.”

Mattie’s usually a much better liar. But she’s not even trying. She’s already trying to just shut the door on you. You put your foot in the way of its path and stand a little straighter, making it clear you’re not leaving that easily.

“What’s going on?” you demand.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your-”

“Mattie, let her in.”

Mattie turns away from you to glower at Carmilla, who’s standing at the top of the grand marble staircase in the middle of the foyer.

She not only sounds, but also looks worse for wear. She’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, and it’s a rarity that she wears baggier pants like that. One of her hands is wrapped tight around the railing, like she needs it for support.

“Why are you out of bed?” Mattie chastises her.

“I figured it was Laura who rang the bell twice and thought you might try to strangle her.”

You slide past Mattie into the eerily quiet house. You want to run up to Carmilla, but the sisters are still trading challenging looks and you don’t want to intervene.

“This is a terrible idea,” Mattie warns Carmilla, though you’re not sure what she’s talking about. Sure, you don’t come here a lot but it’s not like you haven’t been in the house before.

“She would eventually put it together on her own anyway.”

You want to protest for them to stop talking to you like you aren’t standing right there.

You don’t have to because Mattie disappears from the room with a, “Fine, sis. It’s your Rubicon.”

The moment she’s gone you rush up the steps. And the closer view of Carmilla worries you immediately. Her face looks gaunt and her bottom lip is split. She has bags under her eyes like she hasn’t slept at all and her arm holding her weight against the railing is trembling.

“What happened?”

“Can we go to my room?” That doesn’t answer your question. But you do agree with Mattie on one thing: you want her back in her bed resting.

“Sure,” you say, getting under her arm and helping her walk even though you can tell she despises needing assistance.

You guide her down the hall and into her room, settling her to sit on the edge of her bed. In most cases you find the dark walls and poor lighting depressing, but in this case it’s oddly comforting. Yet when you sit down on top of Carmilla’s lavish comforter that sits bunched up from use on her extremely comfortable mattress you are unsettled by the luxury of it.

Money can’t buy a perfect home life and Carmilla’s has been increasingly worrying you. And you’re hoping and praying you’re wrong about where her busted lip came from.

“Do you need anything?”

“Water?” she requests and only then do you realize how dry her voice sounds.

You nod and slip back downstairs to grab a water bottle out of the fridge. Luckily you don’t run into Mattie. It’s good that you left Carmilla for a moment though, because you think she needs it to gather her thoughts. Whenever she can’t sort them out she closes herself off and you really don’t want her to do that.

When you return and hand her the bottle she tries to be subtle about how she downs half of it in one go.

You join her on the edge of the bed, close enough that your knee brushes against hers. Your head is turned sideways to see her brow furrowed, like she isn’t sure where to start.

So you try to prompt her, “How did this happen?”

“Mother,” the answer is a whisper that barely reaches your ears.

But you do just barely hear it and it’s like someone pulled a rug out from under you. Even though it’s the answer you were expecting, you still have trouble fathoming it.

You’re kind of surprised Carmilla continues to offer information on her own. “The other night a business associate of hers was here. I wasn’t careful enough about hiding some bruises she’d left and he started asking questions. Mother managed to derail him from figuring anything out but was furious after he left.

“But since that made her weary about leaving marks again she decided to starve me for the weekend. I’ve eaten almost nothing in days and have been drinking water from the faucet in the bathroom.”

On the one hand you want her to stop talking because it’s hard to hear what exactly she’s been going through and you don’t know what to say. You can’t imagine stopping her though. You want to know so you can help her and you want to give her the chance to get this off her chest.

You want to take some of the burden if she’ll let you.

“Last night she caught me trying to get some food downstairs. I guess her weariness has passed because she didn’t seem to have any reservations about smacking me with a wooden spoon. That’s what busted my lip. And I probably have some welts, but comparatively speaking it was one of her weaker beatings. My body’s just not handling it well at all since I haven’t really eaten.”

Neither of you speak for several minutes. You’re trying to digest everything she’s said though you get the feeling she’s worrying as she waits for your reaction. Somewhere in your silence your shoulders have found one another to rest against and your hand has found her knee.

Eventually, you choke out, “How long?”

The question must not surprise her because she doesn’t take long to answer, “I mean, she’s been messing with my head for as long as I can remember. But the physical stuff has been going on for the past year or so.”

“A year?”

You feel like a terrible person, nonetheless best friend. How hadn’t you noticed this? She’s been suffering all this time and you haven’t been there for her. Meanwhile she listens to every single silly argument you gripe about having with your dad.

“I mean, it didn’t start out this way. At first it would just be she’d grab my arm a little too hard or would shove me aside.”

In some messed up way she’s trying to reassure you, but it’s just making things worse. The more detailed she gets, the worse and worse you feel. About yourself and for her.

“Have you told anyone?”

She shifts to turn more toward you and take hold of your forearms, looking directly into your eyes.

“Laura, no,” she tells you, knowing where you’re going with this.

“Carm, she’s hurting you though and-” you’re getting closer to the verge of tears and you can tell she is too.

“You can’t tell anyone.” Her wet eyes are pleading with you. “Will will get thrown into the system. Mattie’s technically an adult, she’ll pretty much be cast to the streets. And _I’ll_ get thrown into the system.”

“So your great plan is just to stick around and let this keep happening?” you’re getting frustrated with what she’s asking of you and it’s showing through your breaking tone.

“I don’t want this, Laura,” she stresses, her voice losing its fight. “I just need to make it to eighteen. Then I can get my inheritance my real parents left for me. Mattie and I can get our own place and we can somehow take Will with us.”

You were barely listening after hearing she’s planning to wait until she turns eighteen.

“Carmilla, you don’t turn eighteen for another _nine months_.”

“I know,” she sighs, like she hoped you wouldn’t react to that part. “I never said it’d be easy.”

“I don’t know that I can keep quiet about this,” you admit, unable to meet her eyes now.

“If it gets worse we can revisit this. But for now can you promise me not to say anything?”

You really, really don’t want to promise this. But you don’t want to upset her right now. So you try to focus on the idea that she is willing to come back to this along the way. You might get the chance to reason with her if you agree to this.

“I promise.”

You never thought it’d be so hard to say those words to her.

The two of you have made plenty of promises to each other. Promises of not mentioning certain embarrassments ever again. Promises of calls or texts following big occasions. Promises of helping one another with this or that.

But now those all seem so meaningless by comparison.

This is a promise that holds heavy consequences no matter which way it goes. That terrifies you, yet you’re willing to agree to it for Carmilla.

You don’t know which one of you falls into the other’s arms first, but you know you stay locked in that embrace for a while. You try and draw as much comfort as you can from the feel of her skin and her hair, from the breaths that make her chest rise and fall, from the warmth her body gives off.

She’s been through a lot. But she’s still here. And she’s still yours.

“Have you still not eaten?” you ask when you finally pull away, running your hand lightly over her arm.

“No, I was so drained I didn’t wake up until I heard the doorbell,” she explains, moving to get up.

You prod her to sit back down. “I’ll go grab something from downstairs.”

It’s clear that she thinks about arguing that she’s not crippled. She must know it’s better to just let you help though, so she nods her consent and moves to make herself more comfortable in her bed as you walk out the door.

You manage to make it to the kitchen before you break down crying.

* * *

“Why did you even invite me over?” Carmilla asks, and for once she’s actually on your bed instead of Betty’s.

It’s a fair question. You’d told her she should come hang out yet only an hour or so later you had to start getting ready to go to some nice student-leader dinner you’d been invited to a while back.

“Um…I kind of totally forgot about the dinner until like half an hour ago,” you admit. “It’s kind of easy to forget about normal student events when there are activities like medieval siege tactics going on every day.”

You can see her reflection in the mirror you’re looking into nod slightly like that’s a reasonable excuse.

You’ve already showered, fixed your hair, and gotten dressed. The last thing you’re trying to do is put on a necklace, and you’re kind of failing miserably at it. The clasp is rather tiny and you’d just clipped your nails yesterday so you don’t have much to pry it open with. It also doesn’t help that your hair keeps trying to get in the way.

You watch in the mirror as Carmilla rises from your bed and comes to stand behind you.

“Need some help?”

She’s close enough to you that you can almost feel her and you’re tempted to sink back against her.

Ignoring such temptations, you hand her the necklace over your shoulder. Her fingers lightly push your hair up to the side so you take those strands and hold them out of her way. Your eyes find each other in the mirror as she sets the chain around your neck and they don’t break away from each other until the clasp is secured.

She drops her hands and you let your hair drop to your back again before turning around, which probably isn’t your best idea.

Now you’re face-to-face with her, only about half a foot separating your bodies. You’re trying hard not to be distracted by her leather pants or her practically see-through shirt.

It isn’t easy so you try to tell yourself it’s perfectly normal to feel this way about Carmilla despite your odd relationship. She’s obviously gorgeous; you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who wouldn’t agree with that. So there’s no harm in simply seeing how physically attractive she is.

She glances you up and down. “You know, you actually pull off black rather well.”

“I’m glad I have your approval,” you joke in return. “After all, you’re the expert in dark clothing. I hope I’m not stealing your thunder.”

She looks you over again and you’re kind of glad you picked this dress. Black isn’t normally a color you would choose, but the dress had a snug fit and still went just far enough down your thighs and had thick enough straps that it could still be worn to this nicer dinner. It was also rather simple aside from the couple-inch cut at the neckline.

Carmilla doesn’t seem to mind its simplicity. “Oh, you’ve stolen it for the night. But I guess I can allow it this one time.”

She doesn’t move away and you’re not sure what else to say. You’re pretty sure the two of you are flirting and you don’t know what to make of that. You do know it shouldn’t go further. The two of you still have way too many issues that you just keep putting aside.

You’re glad you’re not the one that has to initiate it when Betty comes strolling into the room and Carmilla shifts away from you. You notice that Betty shoots you a strange look but she doesn’t say anything as she settles onto her bed and starts pulling a textbook out of her bag.

“I think I’m going to go,” Carmilla decides.

You don’t really want her to leave on this note. You have to leave soon though, so you nod in response. The two of you swap a quick goodbye before she’s out the door.

“Sorry about that,” Betty says once she’s gone. “I didn’t know your girlfriend was over.”

That stuns you for a moment. Because this isn’t like LaF teasingly calling Carmilla your girlfriend when they know things aren’t like that. Betty must genuinely believe Carmilla is your girlfriend.

“What? No. She’s-she’s _not_ my girlfriend.”

Now Betty seems entertained, raising her eyebrows. “Really? Could’ve fooled me. You were looking at each other like you were about to go at it like rabbits.”

“I can assure you she’s not my girlfriend. I can’t even confidently say we’re friends.”

“Well, not for nothing, but if I were you I’d hop on that. Few people pull off leather pants that well.”

You try to pretend you’re completely ignorant of just how well Carmilla wears them. “Yes, that would be a great basis for a relationship.”

She shrugs. “Probably not. Wouldn’t be a bad basis for sex though.”

“We’re not together. We’re not having sex.”

“Then what are you two doing?”

You really wish you knew the answer to that. But even with Carmilla back in your life for more than two months now you still aren’t sure.

So you give in with an, “I have to leave or I’m going to be late.”

You’re ten minutes early and still horribly confused about Carmilla.

* * *

You’re beginning to wonder if maybe you’re hanging out with Carmilla too much given your strange dynamic.

After all, you see her almost every other day. You’ve probably seen her more than you’ve seen Perry or LaFontaine since you’ve gotten back from winter break. And that’s with Perry living just down the hall from you.

This worry doesn’t stop you from continuing to make plans with her though.

The two of you go to get dinner before she has work one night when she’d been in your dorm not even twenty-fours earlier. You end up at some bar nearby that you’ve heard has some pretty good food. Most importantly they give every table a basket of free peanuts, which of course you and Carmilla wind up flicking at each other.

You accidentally nail her in the eye, causing you to crack up. Carmilla pouts at you in return, clearly not as amused. But of course she finds it hilarious when she shoots one into your mouth, which was wide open from laughter.

You manage to spit it out before it could have a chance to go down your throat. “I could have choked on that!”

That obnoxious smirk of hers plays on her lips. “Someone’s being dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic. I seriously almost choked on that.”

“But you didn’t.”

You’re about to snap back with some sort of smart remark when you notice Carmilla’s entire demeanor change.

The smirk has vanished from her face and her eyes are sadder than those of a kicked puppy. She’s grimacing like her thoughts are someplace she’d rather stay away from. You notice that her line of vision isn’t shifting, leading you to turn to look at what she must be seeing.

Two blondes just entered the bar, though you can’t tell which one Carmilla is looking at or if she’s looking at both of them. The two women seem to be friends. The one in pants and a t-shirt speaking rather animatedly about something while the one in a billowy white dress is listening with a soft smile.

“Everything okay?” you ask, turning back to Carmilla.

She shakes her head like she’s bringing herself out of a trance. “Yeah…everything’s fine.”

“Then who is that?”

Carmilla doesn’t exactly seem to appreciate the topic being pushed, but offers up an answer anyway, “My ex.”

“Oh.”

That bit of information hits you like a slap to the face.

It shouldn’t be so shocking that Carmilla had a relationship with someone over the past few years. After all, she’s an attractive woman who could easily get the attention of someone else. But the last you’d known…

You don’t even dwell on that thought.

You’re not jealous about her ex; you know that you have absolutely no right to be. You can also tell that her presence makes Carmilla more uncomfortable than anything, indicating that it probably didn’t end well.

“Do you want to leave?” you offer.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You tread carefully here. Carmilla had made it pretty clear before that her love life was off-limits. You’re just trying to make it clear to her that if she ever decides she does want to talk about it you’ll listen.

She bites her lip and glances to the blonde sitting at the bar. “Her name’s Ell. We were together for several months but I wasn’t the kind of person she thought I was. I had kept a lot from her so the break-up was pretty bad. I haven’t seen her in months.”

It’s a rather vague explanation, yet you were expecting a lot less.

You want to know these things about her though. You desperately want to learn about what all she’s been through. You want to work through all of this together. You want to be close with her again, and aren’t you supposed to know someone pretty well to be like that?

You’ve stopped trying to deny that you find Carmilla physically attractive. That was a losing battle from the start.

But lately you’ve been dying for things to go back to the way they were more and more. You want to know every detail of her life again. You want to be able to hug her like it’s completely normal instead of feeling nervous about it.

Because you know Carmilla isn’t just amazing for her body. She’s smart and loyal and a pain your ass half the time, but it’s no secret you kind of like that about her.

“Well, it’s her loss,” you state.

Hearing Carmilla’s scoff at that and seeing her grip tighten around her glass, you know you’ve overstepped. What you said has pissed her off, and you can practically watch her close in on herself.

You expect this to pass over quickly. That’s how things have been lately. When you’ve pushed her boundaries a little too much she tends to shy away for several minutes but comes back to you.

This time it’s different.

She barely says a word throughout the rest of your meal. And when the two of you part outside the bar, she doesn’t say goodbye with an “I’ll text you later” or an “I’ll see you around”.

She just says, “Bye, creampuff.”

And you feel horrible about it.

You’re not a mind reader. You can only make guesses as to why what you said upset her so much. But you don’t really even want to dwell on it. You just want to fix it. The two of you had been doing so well and you hate yourself for screwing it up.

You make it back to your dorm and immediately throw yourself into your bed, wanting to just lie down and think for a little while.

When Betty jokingly asks how your date went you surprise yourself by letting out a, “Fuck off.”

Betty must be just as surprised because she gets up from her bed, pulls your covers up over your body and pats your back reassuringly before leaving the room to give you your space.

And you can’t remember the last time you felt so alone.

* * *

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” LaF says, as though repeating the phrase will make it more convincing.

But it isn’t reassuring when they have their head tilted back and a paper towel pressed to their nose to try and stop the blood from flowing out of their nostrils.

“Explain to me again what happened,” you request as you grab them a new paper towel since the one they’re using is pretty well soaked.

They’re awkwardly shifting around in the middle of your room since they don’t want to sit down and get blood on anything. “Well, I got kind of deep into enemy territory. I was trying to scout out the Alchemy Club because I know they’ve been messing with my test samples lately. Just last week-”

“Not the point,” you remind them as you look around for the first aid kit your dad had sent you to school with.

“Anyway, I was trying to spy on them. Apparently they have created quite the array of dangerous booby traps and I kind of walked right into one.”

“What in the name of Indiana Jones were these traps made of?”

“They’re pretty cool, actually. I was lucky I didn’t fall into the pit of spikes they made. I got hit in the nose by the books they have rigged up to launch at people. The _Twilight_ series may be horrendous, but it makes a pretty solid projectile.”

“Books as ammunition. They just get weirder and weirder.”

“I got lucky. The trap also throws knives, but I managed to avoid those.”

They wince when they press the paper towel a little harder to their face to try and speed up the process of stopping the bleeding. But that just makes you throw your hands up in frustration.

“I’m getting Perry.”

“No,” they plead. “L, don’t. We haven’t fought in like months and it’s really nice. Please don’t give her a reason to start.”

“Okay but-”

You don’t get to finish before someone is pushing the door to your room open. Worried it might be Perry, LaFontaine flees to the bathroom so they won’t be found.

Instead you’re surprised to find Carmilla in the doorway.

“Did the mad scientist just-?” her hand gestures toward your bathroom door.

“Yeah.”

And so it seems the two of you are back to being awkward around each other.

It’s been over a week since the night at the bar and you hadn’t heard from her at all. You’ve been worried that you somehow ruined everything, and it’s been impossible not to hound her. You tried just giving her space instead, which must’ve worked because here she is.

“LaF, it’s just Carmilla,” you call out. “You’re safe.”

They walk out of the bathroom still clutching a paper towel to their face. “Safe? Yes. But this is probably even more awkward than if it was Perry so I’m just gonna go.”

They pack up their backpack of what looks almost like survival gear and move to head out, but on their way out Carmilla grabbing their wrist stops them. LaFontaine looks almost scared for a second before schooling their expression to look more confused than horrified. You don’t exactly blame them; Carmilla pretty much tries her best to intimidate all your friends. Though LaF does seem to be her favorite.

“Not so fast, Frankenstein,” Carmilla orders.

She turns LaF’s arm over to reveal a cut on the underside of their upper arm. It’s not very long or wide but it seems like it could be rather deep.

“Wow…” they say rather simply. “I was so focused on my busted up face I didn’t even notice.”

“Sit down,” you tell them, prodding your desk chair their way. They glance between you and Carmilla, seeming reluctant, before taking a seat. “Carm, can you get the med kit out from under my bed?”

You see her give a small nod before rummaging under your bed while you use some more paper towels to wipe up the blood already sitting around the cut.

“I’m guessing this is from your father,” she comments as she pulls out a med kit the size of a small suitcase.

“What gave it away?” you joke.

That actually manages to get a small grin out of her as she hauls the kit onto your bed and opens it up. LaF’s trying to inspect their own wound yet failing miserably because of where it is on their arm. It was likely caused by one of those flying knives courtesy of the Alchemy Club, and knowing them the knife was probably far from sterile.

You’re pulling through the kit for something to clean the gash when Carmilla speaks up, “It’s deep, but shouldn’t need stitches. Just use butterfly bandages.”

LaFontaine lets out a, “No hospital trip? Sweet.”

But you’re barely paying attention to them. You’ve lost your focus, your mind having wandered off at Carmilla’s words. You want to snap at Carmilla, because you’re so clearly remembering an instance where she should’ve gotten stitches but insisted on butterfly bandages. She probably could’ve prevented one of her scars if she hadn’t been so stubborn.

Snapping yourself out of your trance, you find some antiseptic and move to clean out the wound.

When LaFontaine winces from the burn you flinch, remembering all the times Carmilla grit her teeth through the pain while you tried to help patch her up.

You finish cleaning it out, but your hands are trembling slightly. You catch a glimpse of LaF’s face and can tell they’ve noticed, which means Carmilla likely has as well. You fumble around to find the butterfly bandages as you try not to remember Carmilla passed out from the pain of a beating or her small shakes as she fought not to cry.

LaF is fine though. They’re looking at the wound like it’s some cool thing to study.

They’re not suffering.

They won’t have to endure this again.

They-

One of Carmilla’s hands comes to rest on your forearm while the other takes the pack of bandages out of your hands. Your head snaps up so you can meet her eyes and it’s clear that she knows where your head is at.

“I’ll do it,” she assures you.

You go to argue, but she has already turned back to LaF and is pulling the package open.

You watch her work and all you can think about is how she’s still here after all of those beatings from her mom. She’s here and alive. She’s whole and functioning. And in so many ways she’s still the best friend you had for years.

For one thing, she’d still do anything for you. She’s patching up one of your friends even though she’s mad at you. You didn’t even have to ask, she just knows you care about them and that’s enough for her.

Once LaF is patched up, they’re quick to leave. They can tell things are still off between you two and they don’t want to be anywhere near it.

“Thank you,” you exhale once they’re gone.

Carmilla just shrugs. Since she’s not happy with you she’s reluctant to acknowledge how much she cares about you. So she won’t even give you words; just a movement that you’re supposed to interpret in some way or another.

“Why are you here?” you ask when you realize she still isn’t going to say anything on her own.

“I overreacted.”

“No, overreacting would be just being mad at me for the rest of the night, which you were. Blowing me off for over a week is a whole other story.”

“Either way, we can just let this go. It’s not a big deal.”

You’re rapidly getting angry with her. She’s trying to downplay all of this so that she doesn’t have to talk about it. She wants to go back to getting along without actually working through anything. She wants you around, but working for that scares her.

“So you want to just ignore everything? We just won’t talk about why you cut me off for a week? Why I can upset you so much but you won’t let me know why?”

You would accept her saying she just needed space. But that’s just it; you want her to _say_ that. If that’s the case you just want to know you’re on the same page. Instead neither of you ever seem to know where the other is.

Apparently you’re not the only one getting angry. “You want to talk? Fine, let’s start with you. Why were your hands shaking? Where were _your_ thoughts?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s always about me. Because I’m _always_ the problem.”

You refuse to believe that you always make her out to be the problem, but that’s not the argument here and it takes a lot for you to ignore that comment. “You already know why my hands were shaking. I still don’t know why what I said upset you.”

“That’s because you don’t want to actually think about _why_. I really don’t have to spell this out for you, Laura.”

She might as well have just punched you in the face. That’s the first time in years you’ve heard her say your name and now you wish she hadn’t.

She isn’t using it because she’s happy and you’re friends again. She’s not using it in a fun or gentle moment. She’s using it in an argument, and that just makes it awful. You don’t know if she did that intentionally. But you think it actually hurts more if it just slipped.

If she’s just used to associating your name with her pain rather than any joy you bring her.

You’re at a loss for words, and Carmilla takes that as her cue to leave.

It’s not until she’s out the door and probably already to her car that you know exactly what you wanted to say.

That of course breaking up with Carmilla was a mistake on Ell’s part.

Because you know Carmilla has always been your greatest loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: child abuse  
> Well, I have good news and bad news. Next chapter you find out some stuff, but things also get really angsty!


	8. Rise & Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hollstein does their typical arguing in circles. Think of this as a part one...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just a quick shout-out to all those who have left kudos: thanks you guys rock! And to those who have even commented: you're absolutely incredible, thanks so much!
> 
> And trigger warnings at the bottom.

You don’t know how much longer you can keep doing this.

With a sigh, you run a hand through your tousled hair and glance over at the slumbering lump that is Carmilla. You’d both been so tired you never even changed or made it under the covers. Though she’s ungracefully sprawled out, she still looks oddly peaceful which is a surprise after last night.

You’d let yourself into her house, knowing her mother had left on business. When you went up to Carmilla’s room she wasn’t there, leading you to search the house for her for the next ten minutes or so.

You found her trapped in the linen closet on the second floor.

A closet that couldn’t be much more than two feet wide and that only went about a foot deep before shelves jutted out.

Apparently Carmilla had gotten into another argument with her mother as the woman was getting ready to leave. And so she’d locked Carmilla away in that closet to shut her up.

You found her almost nine hours later.

What scares you the most is the thought of what could’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up. Mattie is away at school. Will is away on some trip with his friends. And her mother left for the weekend almost immediately after stuffing her in there. So she would’ve just been stuck there for the next several days?

But of course Carmilla tried to pretend that she was totally okay.

That it hadn’t taken close to twenty minutes for her breathing to even out completely. That she didn’t keep staring off into space for the rest of the night. That she didn’t slam the closet door shut when the two of you passed it again several hours later.

“Mornin’,” Carmilla’s sleepy voice greets you.

You had zoned out looking toward the door, but now your attention returns to her. She’s stretching out like it’s just any other day and you didn’t find her locked up worse than a prisoner less than twenty-four hours ago.

“It’s one o’clock.”

“And when did you get up?”

Of course she just knows you needed the rest. “About twenty minutes ago.”

A hum escapes her throat like she’s made her point so you toss her a glare.

“Get up,” you tell her, rising from her bed to walk around the side and stand next to her.

“Why?”

“We’re going to go get a well overdue breakfast.”

“We can’t just stay here?”

“Your house is actually stocked with food for once?”

“Point taken.”

It is a good point. But you also just don’t want to explain to her that you’d really rather be anywhere but her house.

You don’t understand how Carmilla is still so comfortable here.

You walk into her bathroom and you remember all of the blood you’ve helped wash off of her. You have a distinct mental note of the exact spot on her bedroom floor where you had to catch her as she passed out, unable to make it even just the last few steps to her bed. The granite kitchen counters almost seem dangerous to you from the bruises you’ve seen blossom on Carmilla’s pale skin from getting thrown into them.

And now you don’t think you’ll be able to walk past that linen closet without subconsciously listening to make sure you don’t hear Carmilla in there.

This isn’t about you though. It’s about Carmilla, and you think the two of you could both really use some food in your systems. So you practically haul her off the mattress and shove her in the direction of the bathroom.

The two of you get ready quickly, finding yourselves even hungrier than expected. You try to lighten things up a little, changing the radio station in Carmilla’s car from her super angsty and depressing music to something more upbeat. Carmilla keeps batting your hand away, but ultimately can’t do much about it while driving.

So you win out in the end and start dancing around in your seat like an absolute dork, which you have plenty of fun doing and you know Carmilla finds it amusing.

You make it to the old diner in the center of town that has probably become almost too familiar with the two of you. You’ve been going there all your life and the staff still asks how your father is doing since he used to bring you frequently.

When you first brought Carmilla here you could tell she was uneasy. The place was a bit bright and cheery compared to her usual tastes and there was almost always a child screaming at some table. She got hooked on their coffee, tea, and pastries though and the two of you haven’t stopped frequenting the place since.

After you place your orders, you take one of the straws and tear off half the wrapper before blowing the other end of it at Carmilla. She glares at you at first, which is typical since this definitely isn’t the first time you’ve done that to her.

What you didn’t expect for her to do was do the same thing in return while you were checking something on your phone. The paper bumps right into the middle of your forehead and you’re so surprised that for a moment you thought you imagined it.

Your gaze rises and Carmilla’s smirking like she might actually be suppressing a laugh. And that makes you happy. Because this isn’t the girl who nearly had a panic attack last night or who dodges any conversation you try to have about her mother.

This is the girl who throws snowballs in your face. Who surprises you by taking you out to see meteor showers. Who doodles on the homework you’re trying to do because she couldn’t care less about her own. Who gave you a piggyback ride that one time you thought you sprained your ankle after hopping a really tall fence to flee your first high school house party.

The Carmilla you saw last night is the survivor just trying to make it to eighteen. This Carmilla is the one who maybe wouldn’t mind never growing up if it only meant the two of you on endless adventures.

“What are you doing?” she asks when you’ve both finished your meals and you snag the check.

It’s not uncommon for friends to cover each other’s food from time to time, but it’s rare you pay for Carmilla. Usually the two of you split the check or Carmilla pays, insistent on spending the money her mother attempts to spoil her with.

“I can pay for once,” you tell her.

She snags the check out of your hands. “You’re not doing this.”

“Why is this a big deal?”

“Of all people, I never thought you’d be one to throw pity at me.”

That surprises you. You hadn’t intended it come off that way at all. Sure, you had planned to cover the meal since this was your idea to cheer her up. But it was cheering you up too. It’s not like you’re paying for her because you feel bad for her.

“That’s not what this is. Just let me do something nice, you never let me pay.”

“So this has nothing to do with the fact that you found me in a closet yesterday?”

That is a significantly more difficult claim to argue.

Especially because the more she presses you, the more you think about it and the guiltier you feel about everything. Half of what you’ve felt about Carmilla in the couple months has been guilt.

You feel guilty because you haven’t been able to give her the help she really needs. You feel guilty because you always think you could be there for her more. And you feel beyond guilty because a majority of the time her arguments with her mother start over you.

If it weren’t for you, Carmilla probably wouldn’t receive half the beatings she does.

And the guilt must be written all over your face because Carmilla’s anger fades and she sighs, “Don’t even go there. Don’t put yourself through that.”

“But, Carm-”

“Laura, no. My mother is a psychopath. She would just find other reasons to pick fights with me.”

“But I just make it so much easier for her,” your voice is wavering now. Carmilla goes to cut you off again, but you don’t let her. “She bruised your ribs just because you invited me over once. You’re going to have a scar on your hip forever because you took me to some stupid school dance. And-”

This time she succeeds in stopping you, her hands finding your forearms, which had been moving around to emphasize your frustration.

“None of this is your fault,” she tells you and it’s clear you don’t believe her because she repeats herself. “None of it. You aren’t a bad person.”

You’re tearing up a bit at this point, the stress of everything hitting you full-force. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stay away from me. You would be safer away from me.”

“Maybe I would be safer,” she admits and your heart sinks. You won’t stop her because you really do want her in less danger, but you don’t want to think about life without your best friend. “But I’d be absolutely miserable. And that isn’t worth it to me.”

She pauses like she’s giving you the opportunity to say something.

When you don’t, she picks right back up. “If I cut myself off from you my mother gets exactly what she wants; for me to lose the only person I’ve ever really loved.”

“Carm, what are you-?”

“Laura, I’m in love with you.”

* * *

“Laura?”

You wake up to feel someone gently prodding your arm and quietly calling your name. After a moment you recognize it as Danny’s voice so you slowly open your eyes. You feel groggy and barely refreshed as push yourself up to better face Danny.

“I ran into Perry,” Danny begins to explain herself. “She said someone should probably wake you up so you don’t miss class since Betty’s already out for the day.”

Still waking up, you’re rather confused as you glance around the room for your phone to check the time.

Danny seems to figure out what you’re looking for since she goes and grabs it off the top of your small fridge. “Any reason why your phone is turned off and all the way over here?”

“My dad,” you sigh, recalling your conversation with him the night before as you turn on the device.

“Is that why you were working late last night?”

Perry must’ve told her. After hanging up you couldn’t just fall asleep and needed a distraction, so you started doing work way in advance again. Around midnight Perry had stopped by and in an attempt to help had insisted on organizing your desk for you and bringing you cookies.

“I tried distracting myself with Doctor Who but I needed something that required more attention.”

It’s a total deflection of her question, and Danny knows you well enough at this point to see right through it. She bites her lip and you can tell she’s trying to keep herself from calling you on it. You’ve gotten far too good at not _really_ talking about your problems.

Since she’s trying so hard to do what you ask of her and not get super-protective and pry, she doesn’t know what else to say. “Well, just let me know if you need anything.”

She turns to leave but before she can even take a step toward the door, you’re blurting out, “I miss being able to talk to my dad about anything.”

Danny turns back to you and you can see the surprise on her face as she goes and sits herself in your desk chair.

It’s clear she’s listening, so you continue, “He was always someone I wanted to talk to and spill all my troubles to. I could even talk to him about periods or the girls I was crushing on and he was just the best dad about it.”

“And now?” Danny prompts you when you stop for a second, seeing you’re not quite sure how to say the next part.

“And now all I want from him is advice about Carmilla, but that is the one discussion we can’t have.”

This is clearly putting Danny in an awkward place since you know she agrees with your dad. She isn’t your parent though. She’s your friend. And you’re hoping that wins out here.

You hate that you’re still on this rollercoaster of fighting and not fighting with Carmilla and wish you could just express that to someone without getting some sort of lecture. Because the more you think about how Carmilla you used your name, the more you remember your jumbled up emotions all those years ago and it makes your stomach roll.

“Did you try talking about her last night?”

“Yeah, and he basically started bashing her the second I brought her up.”

Danny thinks for a moment before speaking. “Look, Laura. I can’t promise that I will say what you want to hear about Carmilla or give you the advice you need. But I will happily keep my mouth shut and let you just vent if you ever need that. I can’t do anything about your dad, but I can try and be a better option to talk to.”

That’s way better than what you could’ve hoped to hear from her. So you get out of bed and lean over the back of your desk chair to wrap your arms around her neck in a hug, “Thank you.”

“Of course.” When you let go she stands up and starts heading for the door. “By the way, someone is throwing a party at a house off campus tonight and a bunch of the Summers are going. Betty’s going and I believe LaF was thinking about it too. You in?”

“Sure, why not?” you agree.

“Get ready for class, Hollis.”

She leaves and you look down at your phone to see you only have about twenty minutes before your class across campus starts.

And you decide it’s going to be a long day.

* * *

“Whoa, easy there, frosh,” LaF says, taking the bottle of whiskey out of your hands.

All you did was pour yourself a shot, it’s not like you were chugging it.

Maybe they’re just worried about you considering the last time you fought with Carmilla and then went to a party you went a little too hard. That’s not your intention tonight though. You don’t even want to get that drunk, just loosened up.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?” you reply, snagging the bottle back from them and pouring yourself another shot.

They let out a laugh. “Not if you keep trying to drink like a freshman that has no idea what they’re doing. Need I remind you how tiny you are? We’ve only been here like five minutes.

You down your second shot and put the bottle down. “That’s all I wanted for right now.”

“If you say so. Come on, let’s go find Danny.”

Danny has never been particularly hard to find in a crowd so the two of you make your way to her in no time. Kirsch is with her and in no time he has you laughing and dancing along with him to some ridiculous song that’s blaring throughout the house. LaF and Danny make fun of you guys at first but wind up joining in.

The song ends and Kirsch decides he wants someone to play darts with him. With nothing better to do, you agree and follow him to the game room. The room isn’t very big so it’s hot with how many people are in there, but there’s a door leading out to the backyard that’s cracked open for some relief.

You wind up drinking some more as you play. You’re still far from wasted, but your aim is getting starting to get thrown off. Since you stop playing, your focus shifts around the room.

And that’s when you see her.

You have no clue why, but Carmilla is across the room.

She’s talking to some blonde in the Summer Society, whose name you believe is Elsie, and they’re by the pool table like they’re waiting to play the next game. Elsie is basically leaning on Carmilla saying something to her. Carmilla is mumbling back at her with a small smile on her face.

You know that smile though.

It isn’t genuine. It’s wry and sexy so she uses it all the time when she’s flirting but it’s all a part of her cool, disaffected persona. She could care less about what Elsie is saying, meaning she’s probably just trying to get into bed with her.

That makes you jealous and you hate that it does.

It has never been clearer than since your last fight with Carmilla that you had her and you let her slip away so you’ll just have to live with that.

To try and distract yourself, you haul Kirsch into another round of darts, even though you are now doing even worse. He’s way more intoxicated than you so he doesn’t seem to mind. You’re also grateful because he doesn’t seem to notice you keep looking over at Carmilla.

You figure she has to have noticed you here and you dread the idea of this being the way things will go from now on. It was bad enough not seeing her for years; you know you won’t be able to blatantly ignore her presence. You can’t have her here and be nothing to each other.

You find yourself getting annoyed every time Elsie leans over Carmilla as she takes a shot. And you wish their flirting only went that far. Their hands keep finding each other’s back pockets and Elsie plays with Carmilla’s hair whenever she gets the chance.

They somehow win the game even though they were paying way more attention to each other.

After their victory, Elsie says something in Carmilla’s ear before heading toward the kitchen, likely to get another drink. And that’s when Carmilla catches your gaze. You try not to make it too obvious you’d been looking, but it’s a pathetic attempt.

She goes to hang the pool cue back up, passing you on her way.

When she’s all of half a foot away she says, just loudly enough for you to hear, “Jealously is not a good color on you, buttercup.”

That sparks something in you. You’re annoyed because while you’re standing there stressing about the possibility of you two drifting apart again, she’s toying with you. It drives you nuts that she still thinks you’ll just go along with this whole “not caring” thing she has going.

So after she returns the pool cue and goes to walk by you again, you’re standing so you’re almost blocking her. “That’s really all you have to say to me?”

“Here we go again,” she mutters before speaking up. “Well, yeah. Because you’re the last person to get any right to be jealous. We sure as hell aren’t together. Are we really even friends?”

“I wouldn’t know because you won’t talk to me.”

“My bad. I forgot you’re such an open book.”

“Why is this so hard for us? I’m sorry for what I said about Ell, okay?” Her face softens a little like she might just accept this and move on, but of course you go and screw everything up with your big mouth. “But you can’t just keep blowing me off-”

“ _Me_ blowing _you_ off?” she snaps. “You’re unbelievable.”

You’re confused for a second, trying to figure out when the last time you cut her off was. And then you realize she isn’t talking about the few months you’ve been in contact again. She’s arguing with you about the past. When you realize that it hurts because you know she has a point.

She turns and walks out the door but doesn’t make it very far on the wet grass of the lawn with you right on her heels.

“Carm-”

She whips around abruptly enough you stumble back half a step. “I’m such an idiot. Every time we fight I wonder why I’m letting you back in again. I keep on giving you so much power to hurt me.”

It has always scared you in a way that Carmilla invests herself in you so much. You know it makes it so easy to hurt her, even when your intentions are so far from doing so. You were hurt along the way too, but not by anything she did.

You deserved relief, but Carmilla doesn’t owe you an apology.

And while you’re sorry for a lot of things, there are some you would be lying if you apologized to her for.

“I am sick of playing this game where we avoid all of our problems. And I’m sick of hurting you, Carmilla,” you tell her sincerely. “But I can’t apologize for everything I’ve done. I can’t apologize for telling the police your mom was beating you day in and day out because if I didn’t you would be dead. Even though that meant that your family got torn apart and I lost you, I still could never have chosen to leave you in that house to die.”

You’re trying not to think about the night you told the police. You hadn’t planned on going to them. But with Carmilla barely hanging on in a hospital they were asking questions and you couldn’t lie. You couldn’t tell them false things just to get Carmilla put back into her mother’s reach.

Carmilla is staring at you and you don’t understand the disbelief written all over her face. “You think I blame you for that?”

Now _you’re_ in disbelief. “You mean _you_ don’t?”

“I have never blamed you for that,” she tells you softly and such a weight is lifted off your shoulders you could cry. But then her tone starts to get more and more frustrated and you immediately know why. “I wanted to so badly. Throughout all of the crap I’ve dealt in the past few years I’ve wished I could blame it all on you. But I know as well as you that I probably wouldn’t have survived to eighteen, and you saved me. The one thing I have never been able to understand is why you abandoned me.”

Her voice breaks at the end and it’s enough to bring tears to your eyes. Through all of this time you’d been so focused on her hating you because you got her mother arrested.

“I-I…” you stutter to try and say something to that and come up blank.

Your brain is trying to process too much right now.

On the one hand you’re happy because there are so many things she doesn’t actually blame you for. You’d blamed yourself for her getting thrown into the system and getting pulled away from Mattie. You’d blamed yourself for whatever sad state she’s been living in these past few years.

But apparently she holds none of that against you.

The one thing she does hold against you is the one thing you’ve tried to deny the most: that you left her behind.

She’s swallowing down her emotions as she keeps going. “I told you I was in love with you and then I don’t see or hear from you for almost two weeks. You finally show up at my doorstep, and I can’t even remember the rest of that night.”

That night.

That god-awful night Carmilla nearly died by her mother’s hands and you told the police everything. The night you watched your best friend die and barely get revived by paramedics.

It’s ironic, really, that she has no recollection of the night that has haunted you for years.

“Two weeks,” she repeats. “I was driving myself nuts over the fact that I had ruined everything between us. Then you finally show up and I made the mistake of thinking we would fix everything. But when I woke up in the hospital you weren’t there. And the next time I see you is in a strip club three years later.”

You bite your lip.

You had your reasons for staying away. But with the exhausted and pained look she’s giving you, you don’t feel like any of them are good enough.

You don’t know how long the two of you have been standing out on the lawn. If it weren’t for the bit of alcohol in your system you’d probably be freezing. You must not be causing a huge scene since no one is blatantly staring, though you get some puzzled glances.

Carmilla looks like she just wants to collapse and you feel the same way. You’re sick of fighting and getting nowhere but that seems to be what you two do best.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you admit and she looks so exasperated with you for it. “I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will just make all of this better.”

“I’m not looking for that!” Just as you two were reaching a lull things have to fire up again. “I just want even the simplest of explanations. I’d like to have some clue as to why I had to spend the last three years wondering if you ever even cared.”

That sets you off. You sharply stride in two steps closer to her, bringing the two of you to only about a foot apart. Her eyes are hard, her defenses rising with you so near. You could care less because you can’t believe the words that just came out of her mouth.

“ _Don’t_. Don’t you ever think that I didn’t care,” you practically growl. “If I didn’t care I wouldn’t have stayed up at night wondering if you were okay. If I didn’t care I wouldn’t have tried to stop you from bleeding out that night. If I didn’t care I would’ve kept my mouth shut and let you go right back to that house!” You’re yelling at this point, getting far too emotional from everything this whole conversation has been dragging up. “If I didn’t care I wouldn’t have realized that I had feelings for you too! Yeah, that’s why I showed up on your doorstep that night!”

Carmilla somehow manages to look simultaneously furious and in awe. The confirmation you care is probably a reassurance she’s been dying for. But it’s too little too late. You had two whole weeks to tell her that when you were younger and you let it slip through your fingers.

“You don’t get to say things like that,” she seethes back. “You don’t get to tell me you had feelings for me when I’ve spent all this time torturing myself about this. You don’t get to say that and still not explain why that didn’t matter enough to stay!”

She wants an explanation but you can’t give her one.

It’s so hard to iterate all the thoughts that were crashing around your head back then. In those two weeks you couldn’t get your shit together. And after that night you didn’t get much of a choice in seeing her.

But you can’t explain that to her.

You can’t bring yourself to talk about all that like your problems even remotely compared to hers. You dug your own grave so now you get to lie in it and selfishly wish she wasn’t so angry with you for it.

To her it must seem like the universe is making some sick joke in having you confess you had feelings for her years too late. Confessing that you still have feelings for her would just twist the knife.

She isn’t much bigger than you at all, but with all of your fight gone you feel so small under her glare.

“Of course you have nothing to say to that,” she sneers.

She seems like she might start ranting again, though you never find out because the next thing you know LaFontaine is stumbling up to the two of you. They have a habit of interrupting at the worst times, a skill that only seems to sharpen when they’re intoxicated and have no sense of social cues.

LaF had been Carmilla’s favorite, but now her face says she’s half a second from tossing them across the lawn.

“Hey, L,” LaF slurs as they stumble over and sling an arm around your shoulders, leading Carmilla to take a couple of steps back from you.

You manage to find your voice. “LaF, could you please-?

“Danny’s looking for you. Said she managed to snag some of your drink of choice.” Only now do they even seem to notice Carmilla’s presence and are completely oblivious to the annoyance rolling off of her in waves. “Hey, Karnstein. Didn’t know you’d be here.”

You’re almost tempted to throttle them.

The mention of Danny certainly hasn’t seemed to help Carmilla’s mood.

So she snaps, “Sorry. I just forgot I have to be anywhere but here.”

And you let her go.

You debate hauling her butt back here since even though it was technically arguing, the two of you were finally talking. Until minutes ago you every bit believed she hated you because you got her mother arrested and her life turned upside down. And until minutes ago she was clueless that you’d ever felt more than friendship for her.

You shouldn’t let her go because what she hates most is that you already did once.

But both need time to think, and this time you know it definitely won’t be two weeks before you’re on her doorstep ready to see where things go.

“Damn, what’s got her leather pants in a bunch?” LaF remarks, taking a drag of their beer.

First things first: you’re getting the hell away from this awful party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: child abuse
> 
> Like I said, think of this as a part one. I will try and get you all part two before Christmas (or maybe on) as a little gift.
> 
> Not gonna lie, these two chapters are the ones I think I'm the most nervous about so I hope you enjoyed.


	9. Figure 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was on track to have this posted before Christmas until Carmilla Xmas bundles were released and I got terribly sidetracked. So consider this a belated holiday gift. I make no guarantees when the next chapter will be out (hopefully in about a week).
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! (also: friendly reminder that trigger warnings are at the bottom)

“Oh crap,” you grumble to yourself when you see Carmilla’s mother’s car in her driveway.

Normally that would be enough to send you home and you would just call Carmilla. But this can’t be put off any longer. You know you’ve probably already hurt her by delaying this much-needed conversation for practically two weeks.

You haven’t been able to think straight since she told you she loves you.

It’s all that has been on your mind and you feel terrible about it. She shouldn’t love you. You don’t deserve her for letting her mother hurt her for so long. You don’t even deserve to be her friend.

You still don’t know what you’re going to say to her.

It’s not like you can tell her that if she wants anything to happen between you two she has to report her mother. You can’t make an ultimatum out of this.

It only took you an instant to realize how strongly you had feelings for her.

You’re not sure you would call it love since you’re only seventeen and haven’t been in love before. You’re certainly not denying that there’s something there though.

While coming to terms with your feelings was actually one of the easiest things you’ve ever done, you’ve spent the last two weeks fretting over how you can’t build something more with her. No matter how much you want to.

You know watching her get hurt will only kill you that much more.

You think you’re being selfish but you can’t help it. You know you won’t be able to do this with so much guilt crushing you.

With a sigh, you start making your way around to the back of the house. From there you know you can go on the deck and climb up onto a lower roof, which leads right up to Carmilla’s room. You’ve only gone in through there once or twice because Carmilla’s mother was home. But you know the window will likely be unlocked since Carmilla uses this escape route rather frequently.

You slide the glass over and the screen has long since been taken out so you push some curtains out of your way and find the floor with your feet. You find it odd that Carmilla doesn’t seem to be in her room even though her mom is home.

You close the window over and sit yourself on the edge of her bed, trying to prep yourself for the shitty way you’re sure this scenario is bound to go.

It isn’t long before Carmilla hastily enters her room and the sight almost snaps something in you.

The second she closes the door she’s leaning back against it, breathing heavily and cradling her arm to her chest. The limb is bent in a way it shouldn’t be at the wrist. There’s blood on her shirt and at first you think her arm is bleeding, but you quickly realize it must be coming from somewhere on her torso.

It takes a moment before she brings her eyes down from looking up at the ceiling to see you. “Laura?”

All thoughts of your feelings go out the window. “Oh my god, Carm.”

You’re at her side in a flash but she moves away from you. “What are you doing here?”

For a second you had forgotten that for the past two weeks you’ve left her heartbroken.

That discussion can wait though. “Let me see.”

She pulls away from you again, but her shirt rides up and you can see the long gash a little above her hip. It must not be deep since she’s up and moving but she already has one gnarled scar from not getting proper stitches. She doesn’t need another.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” you tell her.

There had been so many things you wanted to say but all that can wait. Right now you’re just focusing on her getting help.

“No.”

“Carm-”

“No,” she practically snarls. “You don’t get to leave me then come back and take care of me. I don’t want your help.”

“This isn’t about me. You know what? This isn’t even about us right now. You need stitches and you need someone to look at your wrist.”

“I’ll be fine.”

That makes you want to explode. You can’t recall how many times she has said that in the past few months only for you to find her with a new injury just hours later. You’re so done with her just letting this all happen. If she is going to keep sticking around for her mother to beat her than she is at least getting proper medical attention for it.

“No, you won’t be,” you’re trying not to yell at this point. “You say that constantly and you never are. I’m not letting you wind up with a permanently screwed up wrist. I will drag you to the hospital kicking and screaming if I have to.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do.”

“That’s not going to stop me. Get mad at me all you want. We’re going to the hospital and for now I will tell them whatever lie you choose but once you are treated we’re figuring out what to do for the next five or so months until you turn eighteen. Because this is not working.”

“Get out. I don’t want your help.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Sorry for giving a damn about you.”

Sorry she’s your best friend. Sorry you want better for her. Sorry you have stupid, messy feelings for her. Sorry you haven’t gotten her the help she needs so much sooner. Sorry you can’t stand to see her hurt anymore.

And, really, the list could go on.

“Mircalla,” the clinical voice of Carmilla’s mother rings through the door. “Please come out here for a moment.”

You don’t think either of you are breathing as you stare at each other.

You know there’s a large part of Carmilla that wants to grab you and flee from her mother’s voice. A part that would take you cities or states or countries away so the two of you could be happy.

But in the past two weeks you’ve inadvertently taught her you don’t care about her.

And for years her mother has been teaching her that there is a serious price for disobedience.

So you have to watch her leave the room straight to the woman who has broken so many parts of her. And you can’t bring yourself to leave so you have to stand alone in her room and listen.

There are pauses where Carmilla must be speaking, but she’s quiet enough that you only catch her mother’s words.

“Darling, I thought you were done with that wretched girl.”

You hear a thud.

“How many times do I have to tell you that she doesn’t love you and never will?”

A smack.

“I have done everything I could to try have you reach your highest potential and you insist on ruining it all.”

Another thud.

“You’re worthless without me, and it’s about time you realize that no one will ever care about you as much as I do.”

A crash.

You can’t take it anymore. You throw open the door and race into the hallway but they’re a ways away, right near the grand staircase. Carmilla looks even worse for wear and you’re frozen seeing her mother’s hand wrapped around her throat. Everything is eerily still and you should probably run forward but it’s too late by the time you set in motion.

“You only care about yourself,” Carmilla chokes out.

And the next thing you know, Carmilla is tumbling down the marble steps.

You’re rushing toward her as you hear every harsh thump as her body hits one step after another. You don’t even register that you practically body-check her mother as you fly past her. All you can think about is reaching Carmilla who lies motionless at the bottom of the stairs.

You drop to your knees beside her and roll her onto her back so you can pull her head into your lap, which is already streaming blood from a thick gash on the side.

Ripping your phone out of your back pocket, you dial emergency services, leaving a trail of blood on the buttons. You’re barely coherent as you speak to the dispatcher, who you can only hope understands you as you frantically tear off your jacket and try to stem the bleeding from Carmilla’s head.

Your only relief is that she’s still breathing and even that is faint.

She’s undoubtedly injured in other places but most of those are likely survivable so you ignore them for now. You try not to think about how she could be bleeding internally because you are no good to help her if she is.

Your face is streaked from tears and your clothes are soaked in blood by the time the paramedics arrive.

It’s hard for you to let go of her but you do so they can load her on the stretcher and you follow them into the ambulance. You are in an absolute daze throughout the drive as they work on her.

You were such a mess that it’s difficult for you to remember all the details.

But you will never forget the shrill beep of the monitor as Carmilla flatlined.

* * *

Forty-seven hours is all it takes for you to show up at Carmilla’s apartment.

And it probably would’ve been sooner if it hadn’t taken you a little while to find out where she lived. You dug through all your text messages with her in the past few months to find her mention of a certain Chinese restaurant right across the street.

That made it easy to find the building. Though you now find it slightly concerning that one of Carmilla’s neighbors so quickly directed you to her when you acted lost and said you were looking for the “broody punk rocker who probably doesn’t talk to anyone”. You’re lucky there was someone even out and about at this hour.

This all probably reaches a new level of stalking, but at the same time you don’t think she’ll mind.

You just know she’s waiting for you to come to her, and how else are you supposed to do it? She made it clear she doesn’t want you going back to The Siren’s Den.

The thought of the club gives you hope again.

You’d banged on the door three times already, beginning to worry that you’re wrong and Carmilla doesn’t want you around. You know she stays up late so it’s doubtful she’s asleep. But with the club, she could still be at work.

At least Mattie must not be home since your knocking didn’t lead her to come and threaten to turn you inside out.

Checking the time on your phone you know this is usually when she gets off of work. It’s weird that you already know her life and her schedule like this, but it’s because you pay a ridiculous amount of attention to her. This is around the time where her work ends for the night and she’ll finally respond to your texts even though you’re already asleep and don’t see the ridiculous time stamps until morning.

Not sure how long it will take her to return, you slide your back down her door until you’re seated on the kind of grimy floor. This isn’t the worst apartment building you’ve seen, though it is certainly miles and miles away from the luxurious dungeon Carmilla lived in when you were younger.

You’ve unnecessarily checked your email five times when you hear the door to the stairwell creak open.

Sure enough, Carmilla’s standing there and her blank expression doesn’t give anything away.

“Hey,” you greet her, rising from the floor and stepping out of the way.

She walks past you to jam her key into the lock and sighs, “Hey.”

It’s quiet and you wonder if she’s going to try and send you away. But when she pushes the door open and enters her apartment she leaves the entrance wide open like she expects you to follow. So you walk into the living room, which Carmilla has already bypassed to another room.

You shut the door but don’t move very far from there, observing the room around you. The apartment doesn’t seem to be nearly as shabby as the rest of the building. The room is tiny, but the couch looks comfortable and the coffee table looks new. There is more than one packed bookshelf, which doesn’t surprise you.

The lighting is dim, yet cozy and all too fitting of Carmilla.

Your old friend returns from the kitchen with an opened grape soda in her hand. You find it interesting that she didn’t grab alcohol knowing things between the two of you rarely seem to go anywhere good, but figure it isn’t worth questioning. And considering you were a little tipsy the other night, you’re glad the two of you are every bit sober.

She has already ditched her shoes and socks, leaving her feet bare to the wooden floor that you think has to be frigid considering her apartment isn’t exactly tropical. You’re almost tempted to put the coat folded over your forearms back on even though she’s already ditched her jacket.

You two just stare at each other for a long moment.

You get the feeling that Carmilla is silent because she doesn’t know what to say. You, however, have so much to say you don’t know where to start.

“I know why I called you on Christmas,” you finally blurt out.

Of all the things she could’ve guessed you’d say, you have a feeling she never would have come up with that.

“Because even countless years and arguments and heartbreaks later you’re still the person I rely on the most,” you confess. “You were right; it wasn’t the logical choice to call you. But I called you because I can’t help always wanting to be around you or to be able to go to you about absolutely anything.”

“And yet…”

“I left. I know.”

You step further into the apartment, dropping your coat on the coffee table and running a hand through your hair.

“I lost so much at once,” she says as she places her soda on an end table. And this might just be the most vulnerable you’ve heard her sound. “But out of everything I lost, you’re the only one that _left_. Even though you were the one I always thought would be far too stubborn to go away.”

You don’t get the chance to explain before she chuckles at herself and continues. “You were always so selfless to the point that it drove me up a wall. So I never thought you could be so selfish.”

That’s painful to hear because the same thoughts have rattled around in your brain for years.

But at the same time…

“I tried so hard,” you tell her, and your voice breaks. You feel so exposed standing in the middle of the room that you find yourself going and leaning back against the wall near the kitchen. “But it was never enough and I convinced myself you were better off without me.”

That’s certainly the abridged version but you feel disgusted by some of your reasoning. You feel like it would just be wrong to discuss how _her_ getting abused affected _you_.

“And you never even bothered to ask?”

You expect Carmilla to sound angry as she shuffles a little closer. Instead she just sounds tired and you can’t blame her. The two of you always seem to be going in circles and it gets exhausting.

“Since when have we ever been good at communicating?” you mean for it to be somewhat joking but it’s so true that the humor of it falls flat. “And I couldn’t give you a choice.”

Another step toward you. “You should have.”

Another step. “I couldn’t.”

And another step that puts her right in your personal space. “Why not?”

Still no anger. Just desperation.

“You would’ve chosen me no matter what.” Her eyebrows raise and her breath hitches like she might just try and refute that claim. “And we both know it. Even if you knew you’d be better off without me you wouldn’t have made that choice.”

Her hand comes to rest flat on the wall next to your head and you’re so tempted to stop leaning back and push forward to rest your forehead against hers.

“All that time you had feelings for me?” Carmilla asks like she still can’t believe it.

She uses the hand at her side to trail a finger from your belly button up between your breasts, before dragging it over to prod where your heart is. With your eyes locked firmly on hers, your hand curls over the tops of hers and flattens it against the beating patch of your chest.

“Still do,” you breathe out.

Her arm extended toward the wall drops and for a moment you’re sure she’s pulling way until her cool fingers wrap around your free hand and bring your palm up to her heart.

“And what does this tell you?” her voice is barely a whisper.

As quiet and calm as she’s being, her heartbeat gives her away. You’d thought yours was a little fast but hers is racing.

She still has feelings for you.

Feelings that have been clawing her apart from the inside out for far too long. You’ve had trouble understanding how she could still want you, but you’re more positive than ever that she still does.

In a flash your fingers are buried in her dark locks and her hands find your waist as you press up and seal your lips together.

Your lips disconnect and reconnect multiple times as though all of these kisses can make up for those that should have happened over the years. Her teeth nip your bottom lip and you pull her tighter to you even though it crams you to the wall. You can feel every dip and curve of her front against yours and you’re no longer cold with the warmth burning between your bodies.

A loud breath escapes both your mouths when you separate for a moment only to stare.

You seek each other’s eyes like you’re looking for a confirmation.

A confirmation that after all this time and all this suffering that this really is where you two have ended up. That Carmilla Karnstein is in fact kissing you like she worships you and you’re doing the same.

You’re about to say something, you don’t even really know what, when Carmilla dips down toward your neck. You feel a frustrated exhale against your skin when she tugs the collar of the button-up you’re wearing out of her way. She shows no mercy, sucking and biting hard at your flesh.

This isn’t slow and gentle. It’s rough and desperate.

Because Carmilla isn’t afraid of wanting you, but she’s still afraid of loving you.

For now you don’t mind one bit. It’s going to take time and effort for her to love you without hesitation again. That’s something to work toward. But right now you want her just as badly and the two of you have already delayed this for far too long.

You’re running your hands all over her body because you can’t decide where to keep them. They drag over the leather of her pants stretched tight across her ass, slip under her shirt and skim the soft skin of her stomach, and cup her breasts through her bra to elicit a short groan. She bites a little harder at the pulse of your neck and your nails dig into her lower back.

She pulls away so she can catch your mouth in another bruising kiss, your tongue immediately working its way past her lips. Your hand slips up and pops the clasp of her bra undone. The way she almost bites down on your tongue indicates surprise, yet she doesn’t miss a beat in stepping back from you and pulling the undergarment off and out from under her shirt.

Her shirt is so thin you can pretty much see everything, and it’s like the fabric is just trying to test you.

Carmilla moves to come in closer again but you don’t give her the chance as you catch the bottom of that stupid shirt and tug it. You swear she smirks at your eagerness as she lifts her arms, though it’s gone by the time you cast the cheap fabric somewhere across the room.

There’s a brief second of vulnerability as Carmilla stands before you. Sure, she’s a stripper. But this isn’t a show for strangers. She’s letting you in despite the fact that you’re sure that scares her. So you lean in for a gentle kiss before setting the two of you back into your frenzied pace.

Your hands find her hips and you whirl the two of you so she’s pressed to the wall. Her back arches and her fingers slip into your hair as you mouth your way around her torso, licking trails and leaving bites and kisses. Before you can give any special attention to her breasts, she’s tugging you off of her and you think you let out a slight whine at her for stopping you.

Before you get any chance to think, her lips are against yours again as she fumbles to undo the buttons through the tiny holes on your shirt. It’s a slight process just to get the first few and she gets so fed up that she decides to tear the last two off.

It was a new shirt but you decide that’s what a sewing kit is for as she hastily pushes it off of you and sheds your bra.

You expect her to touch you or bring her mouth to your torso right away. Instead her hands slide up to the sides of your neck to yank you closer and resume kissing you. You both moan as your bare upper bodies surge against each other. Your fingers dig into her upper back like you almost wouldn’t mind keeping the two of you like this for hours.

But you’re impatient, so the second Carmilla’s hands leave your neck you jump up and wrap your legs around her waist. She stumbles back a step but manages to catch the back of your thighs, letting out a small gasp when she feels the heat between your legs against her bare stomach.

She takes the hint and starts heading to her bedroom. You’re palming her chest and kissing her neck as she walks, much to her aggravation. The two of you only make it about halfway to her room before pushes your back to the nearest wall to help hold you up so she can scratch her way down your stomach while she sucks at your collarbone. Your head tips back to the wall with a moan at the slight burn her nails cause.

She doesn’t stay that way for long before she once again wraps her arms around you again and takes you into her room. In no time she has you laid out on her bed and your shoes cast aside. She meets your mouth in a quick kiss before resting her forehead to yours when her hands find the button of your pants.

Her eyes seek yours, waiting to see if you’ll deny her.

You want every bit of her. And yet…

“Carm?” Your hand goes to halt the action, fingers pulling hers up so you can intertwine them.

“Yeah?” she sounds like she’s still catching her breath as much as you are.

“I want this. I really want you,” you begin to ramble. “I know we’ve gone back and forth with this whole you hating me thing and…well, I just don’t want _you_ to feel like you have to-”

“Laura?”

She’s smiling. She said your _real name_ and she’s genuinely smiling.

You’re so happy and that small smile silences every doubt you had about her wanting this.

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking.”

You both let out the slightest laugh before you’re kissing each other again.

You undo the button and zipper of your pants and guide her hand in right past your underwear. And from there you’re a goner.

It’s not long before you two lose the rest of your clothes. You would have been embarrassed by how quickly you reached your orgasm if you didn’t proceed to get her off alarmingly fast.

The two of you actually seem to build up more stamina as the night goes on. Your pace progressively slows down, and you take the time to actually explore each other.

You let out a squeak when Carmilla finds a ticklish spot and insists on prodding it. She all but growls when you find a particularly sensitive spot near her hip. And while you accept her scars and think she’s beautiful with them you don’t acknowledge them.

Because those memories are the last thing that all of this is about.

Sex doesn’t fix problems. You know that entirely.

But by the time the two of you are dozing off Carmilla is pushing hair away from your face and cupping your cheek and pulling you closer to cuddle.

And she seems less afraid of loving you.

You still have problems to fix and things to work out.

But now you’re confident that the two of you can do all of that _together_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: child abuse
> 
> Hope you liked it! Thanks for all the kudos and comments so far!


	10. Need Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of a shift in flashbacks, some recapping, and the morning after. All in Carmilla's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...it's been a little while. Sorry about that. Been super busy and had trouble figuring out where I wanted to go with this work. Didn't want to post something crappy and wind up having to backtrack. The chapter is also kinda short (and a little less edited) but I wanted to get something out to you guys.
> 
> On that note, hope you enjoy!

You’re sick of waking up alone.

Throughout your childhood you got used to waking up to an empty house. Maman would be away on business while Mattie and Will would have already left for the day on some adventure with their friends. You never were very good at making friends though, so you would wake up late and set yourself up with a book as your company.

You came to enjoy the solitude. It was always quiet and you could read undisturbed. You could move about the large mansion freely without obnoxious remarks from Will or lectures from Mattie and your mother.

Then you became best friends with Laura Hollis and you realized that maybe waking up with someone else could be a different brand of joy.

Sleepovers with Laura meant waking up early and much chatter before noon. But it also meant pancakes for breakfast and starting your days off with petty arguments that would lead you to genuine laughter you never knew you were capable of. It meant hot chocolate instead of coffee and snuggling under fleece blankets covered in bright pop culture references. Whether it was in your vast mansion or her humble abode, mornings with Laura felt like home.

Until you woke up in the hospital with no one but doctors and nurses that were complete strangers to you.

Your body was so broken and your head was so clouded with medication that your time in the hospital remains unclear in your memory. But it definitely stood out to you that there was no Maman, no Will, no Mattie, and no Laura.

You spent the next couple years basically in solitude.

Many nights you stayed in homeless shelters with an abundance of other people, but you may as well have been alone. They were like the doctors and nurses to you; they were bodies in the same space as you, but they weren’t your company.

And there were the countless nights you slept out on the street. You’d tuck yourself away in different parks, not a soul passing by for hours on end.

Then you met Ell.

You had been so tired that night you hadn’t even made it to one of the playground structures to sleep in a tunnel or something. You passed out right on one of the pathways. She was on her morning run when she failed to notice your legs and woke you up by tripping right over them.

You had just started your job as a stripper and had started gathering some money so you didn’t look entirely disheveled. And she had been so caught up in apologizing to you that she didn’t even think to ask if you had been sleeping there or why.

She’d been lovely and you found yourself returning to that park the mornings you couldn’t get into a shelter. You two kept meeting until she asked you out and things went from there.

She assumed it was the product of a fast-moving relationship when you started spending so much time at her place. She never thought anything of the fact that it took her a couple of months to finally see your sparse apartment, and she had no idea you only owned it for a couple of days at that point.

Even with your new “home”, you stayed with Ell as often as you could. It was so much better to wake up with her warm body curled around yours. The mornings she had to leave for work she’d leave you notes or food and it was still enough that you didn’t feel lonely.

She found out about the drugs and the stripping and all of that went away. You spent most nights wrapped up in arguments that would send you to your barren apartment. The nights you stayed she’d barely look at you and she would be gone long before you woke up, her apartment cold and nothing left for you.

As much as you had loved her, you realized long after your ugly break-up that mornings with her never felt like home. It felt more like a campsite. Adventurous and wondrous and cozy when a fire is blazing, but waiting to be collapsed for the occupants to move on.

The lonely nights after her were the hardest, so it really wasn’t surprising when you wound up scavenging for pain meds again.

They didn’t make you any less lonely, but they made you not give a shit that you were. They made it bearable, and so you believed they were helping you.

Even when Mattie came back into your life you continued waking up alone. She’d be out the door early for work and by the time she would come back you were at the club. She was there any time you needed her and you’d have some fun nights together, but she wasn’t a constant.

You’d bed random women to keep your bed warm at night, but they were always gone by sunrise. You expected as much from them, and after Ell you didn’t really want anyone beside you.

Then Laura came back into your life and turned your mornings into a rollercoaster.

At first you would wake up feeling like shit with all that anger rolling around every time you thought of her. You always wanted to sleep instead just so your brain would shut up.

Then it progressed to waking up to text messages from her that often had more exclamation points or emojis than you ever felt would be necessary.

All of that eventually led to mornings filled with the torture of knowing you were falling for her again (as though you had ever really stopped). What was even more torturous about it was that waking up to those thoughts was beginning to feel more and more like home again.

* * *

Your hands are shaking, crinkling the bag of pills that’s taunting you.

It’s like there’s an unbearable itch underneath your skin and you know the pills will soothe it. But you’ve gone months without a relapse and don’t want to give in. You hadn’t told Mattie about this stash that she had missed the last time she cleaned out all your drugs, and now you’re regretting keeping it from her.

You somehow managed not to seek them out the night you saw Ell when you were with Laura.

_It’s her loss._

The words had caused you to bristle immediately. Laura shouldn’t get to say things like that when she gave you up. You were annoyed but by the time you got back to your apartment from the bar you were just kind of numb even without the pills.

You wonder if that’s because you’re just used to people giving up on you.

You shouldn’t have agreed to go to that party with Elsie. You don’t know her that well, you’ve only met her a few times in passing, so it’s not like you have any sort of obligation to her. But you knew she would’ve hooked up with you without hesitation and having such an option gave you an odd sense of comfort.

There had been alcohol or pot within arm’s length throughout the party, yet you felt no urge to reach for any of it as you played your usual games with Elsie. She definitely wasn’t the best at pool, but she let her hands wander over you and was responsive when you reciprocated so you weren’t complaining.

And then you saw Laura.

She was jealous, and that angered you. She gave you up; she shouldn’t get to be jealous. She shouldn’t care if you flirt with other girls. The two of you were never actually together. She made sure of that. So she has no claim of you whatsoever.

Or so you would have liked to think.

But she claimed your heart years ago whether you like it or not.

And maybe that’s why even though her jealousy enraged you; you also wanted to prod at it. You wanted to find what was underneath it, what was making it come alive.

You got your answer: apparently she had feelings for you too.

While you hate to find that out so late, the imbecilic part of you is taking a fucking victory lap. And that same part is dying to know if she still has them.

You’ve been sitting and staring at the bag of pills for almost an hour now, trying to decide where to put your heart. You can relapse and all this pain will go away, but you know Laura will go with it. If she finds out about the drugs she won’t want you anymore. She’ll leave you like Ell did and after a third relapse Mattie will certainly be fed up with you.

Or you can deal with all of this pain.

You can try to sleep, but surely all you will do is play your argument with Laura on loop in your head. You’ll pity her, thinking about how things probably weren’t exactly easy for her either. But in the next moment you’ll criticize her because you were screwed up too and you just wanted to fight every messed up part of this world with her.

You’ll go from hating her to loving her to wondering if she was ever in love with you. You’ll think about how great your lives could have been if your mother was never a factor in this fucked up equation.

You’ll take your mind to hell and back and probably not wind up with a single minute of rest.

You feel like you’re going to vomit, so you hastily move into the bathroom. You retch into the toilet, but when you flush you send the pills with it.

You flushed them on a whim, dumping them before you could think about it for another second.

You expect yourself to start to sweat and shiver and shake like you’re detoxing again, yet all you feel is relief. You think this may be what healing feels like.

You decide that you may not have the energy to chase Laura this time, but if she comes to you then maybe this really can work out.

* * *

“You would’ve chosen me no matter what.”

The words roll through you like thunder.

You wish you could argue that, you really do. She keeps speaking, saying every word you’re thinking. You know it’s true that you would have chosen her even if it were the unhealthiest option.

Because you’ve been addicted to pills, but sometimes you think your addiction to Laura Hollis may be even worse.

She constantly soothes you only to turn your life inside out again. You’d probably be better off quitting her and moving on, even if the mere thought of doing so makes you nauseous. You’d been on a three-year withdrawal from her and the relapse of these past few months has been so dangerously sweet.

There’s a distinct difference between the drugs and Laura though.

Those pills never cared about you.

They didn’t give you a friendship you cherished, and are still clinging desperately to. They’ve never given a damn about you. They’re a crutch, not a companion. You felt like you needed them to get through a day.

You haven’t needed Laura for a long time.

But you have never stopped wanting her.

Your palm feels every flutter of her heart as she assures you she still has feelings for you. And yet yours still somehow beats even faster. You show that to her and she seems amazed that your godforsaken heart still lunges for her every chance it gets.

The next thing you know you’re kissing each other and it’s so surreal.

Of all the ways you thought you’d wind up kissing Laura you never could have come up with this.

A part of your brain tries to remind you that this is all probably a terrible idea on so many levels. Things heat up and the pace between you two is blistering. It’s painful in the most delicious of ways, and you can’t tell if it’s really to punish her or yourself.

You’re not supposed to be this desperate for a punishment.

You can’t quite pin why, but you shy away when she sheds your bra and shirt. And then she’s placing the gentlest kiss you’ve had in a long time to your lips and you fold like a cheap tent for her. It’s an action that is so unbelievably _Laura_ ; to sense your insecurities that you hide from everyone and soothe them to the best of her ability.

So you push on without hesitation, quite literally tearing away her clothes and carrying her to your bedroom.

You lay her out on your bed and you almost stop everything right then and there. Because this is all you could’ve asked for. She’s here. She cares about you. She wants you. And that’s all you’ve been looking for for such a long time. You could stop right there; just curl up with her and you’d be perfectly content.

But at the same time you’d be a fool to pass up sex with Laura when she’s looking at you like she just might scream if you don’t touch her.

And you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t want the two of you to keep going until you’re both too tired to continue.

“Carm?”

She calls your name but you’re more focused on the way she’s lacing your fingers together. It’s so oddly intimate yet somehow feels so natural for the two of you.

“Yeah?”

“I want this. I really want you. I know we’ve gone back and forth with this whole you hating me thing and…well, I just don’t want _you_ to feel like you have to-”

“Laura?”

You cut her off, almost laughing at her breathy spiel. You have easily forgotten about all your history and you could care less about any possible consequences. She’s making you happier than you’ve been in years and that’s all that matters to you right now.

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking."

* * *

You know you’re probably waking up way earlier and than you would normally prefer, but it’s hard for you to get angry about that with Laura’s arm across your stomach and her face in your collarbone.

She must already have been awake and felt a change in your breathing because she picks her head up to look you in the eyes. Neither of you say anything, you both simply lean in for a few soft kisses and it’s exactly the kind of satisfaction you need.

It’s satisfying to be reassured that everything that happened last night was real and she’s still cuddled up to you in your bed. As the two of you were finally drifting off to sleep mere hours ago there was a voice in your head you’d had to ignore that wondered if Laura would leave before you awoke.

But she stayed. And that only fuels the hope you’ve been finding in her.

You both seem to know that the impending conversation you have to have may not be what you want.

So you delay it, not saying a word for a long time. Instead you’re running fingers lightly along each other’s skin, trailing over areas you may have missed the night before. It’s calm and gentle unlike the fiery pace last night that you can see the evidence of all over each other.

You’re sure you’re just as marked up seeing the scratches and hickeys you left behind spaced out over her torso and thighs. You’re not usually into possessive crap but you do get a sense of pride and contentment knowing that Laura not only let you stain her skin in such ways, but also thoroughly enjoyed it.

The lines from her nails still sting your skin, and it’s a blissful pain you continue to bask in.

Eventually she notices a rather dark bruise on the back of your arm, twisting the limb slightly to look at it. “How did you even get this?”

She breathes the question like a laugh is building up underneath it, and you’re pretty sure she knows exactly where it’s from.

“Well,” you start, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek and rubbing a thumb over her lips, “I got a little startled and hit the headboard when _somebody_ did that thing with their tongue-”

She laughs and you trail off to chuckle with her.

“I wish things were always like this,” she admits quietly, watching her finger circle around your stomach instead of meeting your eyes.

And you couldn’t agree more.

You would love to be able to wake up everyday and get to hold her and laugh with her, or even gripe and moan to her about it being early and how you two should go back to bed. You’d love to trade kisses with her and not worry about when that might happen again.

But you both know it’s not that easy.

“Then where do we go from here?” you ask just as softly.

It’s so different for the two of you to talk so calmly. You’re so sick of fighting when you both want the same things. You’ve always been so bad at communicating and working through issues together but if it can be done like this, without biting words or hidden feelings, then maybe it’s worth trying.

She sits up but stays turned toward you, the dark sheets piling in her lap. She pushes her hair back, not making it easy to resist throwing the two of you into another several rounds of sex instead of having a much-needed discussion.

“I think it’s up to you,” she says after a long moment, taking one of your hands in hers and fiddling with your fingers as though she’s nervous. “I want a relationship with you, Carmilla. The last thing I want to do is give up that possibility again. But as much as you may even want to trust me, I don’t think you do yet. And I won’t rush you into something you’re not ready for.”

She still manages to get inside your head so well. You’re thinking about everything that’s happened in these pasts few months and where you are now and where you could go from here. You don’t even realize you’ve been silently staring into nothing until your eyes eventually find Laura’s.

She looks like she’s about to burst from waiting, and it dawns on you that for once maybe you should talk through what you’re thinking to her instead of leaving her guessing.

“I’ve spent several years of my life wanting nothing more than to be in a relationship with you,” you finally admit, “but you’re right. Even though I want to just trust you and dive in, I’m still going to be wondering if you always have one foot out the door.”

Though she certainly isn’t surprised by your claim, she bites her lip and you know she’s internally berating herself.

You’d be lying if your hesitancy were all about her though. You think of the pills and you think of Ell and how you’re not at all perfect either. You’re an addict and a liar. You’ve been keeping Laura just as in the dark as you kept Ell. The only reason she knows you’re a stripper is because that’s how she found you again.

She hasn’t seemed to judge you for your job, and that almost makes you feel like you could spill everything to her. But you’re not sure if that foot’s out the door and you don’t want to drive her away.

You sit up, your hand still tangled with hers but your head ducks because you can’t seem to meet her eyes.

“A lot has happened over the past few years,” you tell her. “Stuff you still don’t know about. And…well-”

She leans forward, resting her head on your shoulder. “I understand. You don’t have to tell me everything yet. I won’t hold it against you. Can you promise me something though?”

You hold your breath. “What?”

“That you’ll be here long enough to sort all of this out and give being together a shot.”

“I don’t plan on missing that opportunity.”

“Me neither. So…we’re not together?”

She’s not trying to push you but this all rather unclear and you can’t blame her for asking. Even if you don’t have much of an answer.

“We’ll get there,” you say as she picks up her head.

You’re confident of that. You truly want to believe neither of you are going anywhere any time soon, and the two of you won’t be able to just be friends for very long. So you two will play this game and get to know each other again, hoping that in the end you can build a relationship that will last.

“Well,” she starts sliding out of your bed with a smirk, “since I guess we won’t be having super hot morning sex I’m going to go raid your kitchen.”

Your jaw drops a little as she heads for your door without even trying to gather any of her clothes. “You’re not even going to get dressed?”

“ _Someone_ ruined my shirt, remember?”

Oh, yeah. You’re kind of surprised she isn’t more annoyed about that, but even if she were you wouldn’t particularly regret it.

With a chuckle you climb out from under your sheets and find a random pair of shorts and a t-shirt to put on since it’s pretty cold in your apartment. You grab some clothes for Laura, knowing that as much as she was teasing about the shirt she’s probably freezing.

You make your way out to the kitchen and almost drop said clothes when you see Laura. She put her shirt back on but she may as well have left it off. She’s stretched up reaching for the Chokoa Crunch in your cabinet, tugging the fabric up so it only covers the very top of her butt. Once she has the cereal she drops off of her toes and turns, and with two buttons gone her chest is left almost entirely bare.

She laughs at what you’re sure is quite an amusing expression on your face so you toss the clothes at her.

“You’re killin’ me, Hollis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all those who have been leaving kudos and commenting, you're awesome. I once again don't promise when I'll get the next chapter out but there shouldn't be as much of a gap this time.


	11. Hush Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not too much hollstein (next chapter will have more). But Laura is certainly at odds with someone else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being patient with me and my delays. All of my courses this semester are writing intensive so I'm basically drowning in word documents right now. Please continue to bear with me.

“Do you not have lunch again?” you criticize Carmilla.

She shrugs, folding her arms on top of the table between the two of you. “I overslept this morning and didn’t have the chance to grab anything.”

“Overslept? You look like you haven’t slept at all.”

A slight smile tugs at the corner of her mouth like she isn’t surprised you noticed and are calling her out on it. “I slept through my alarm because I was up until four-thirty.”

You sigh and ask quietly, “Was your side really hurting that badly?”

You know her torso is probably a sickly greenish color of healing bruises from when her mother shoved her into the counter a few days ago. The night it happened you’d been on the phone with her for a while since she couldn’t fall asleep as she tried to get relief from an ice pack. But she’d been doing better and you’re hoping her mother didn’t do anything to make it worse.

“It wasn’t that. I was on the phone with Mattie. She still doesn’t seem to understand that there’s a bit of a time difference when she’s away at school.”

“Oh.”

That’s all you have to say, leading Carmilla to roll her eyes. “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all, right?”

You take a bite of the sandwich your dad proudly packed for you, delaying a response to her jab. “You know what I think of Mattie.”

“I’m more than aware.” That smirk of hers you’re so used to starts to appear. “I had front row seats to that argument the two of you had about the library.”

“Who thinks it’s a good idea for a school to just get rid of its library?” you reply a little too loudly and hastily.

Carmilla’s trying not to laugh at you. “Didn’t realize it was still such a sensitive topic.”

You ignore the teasing and make an attempt to have a civil conversation about her darling sister. “How long did the two of you talk for?”

“About two hours. Haven’t heard from heard in a while so she had plenty to say.”

“Did you even get to talk about yourself?”

Carmilla looks a little guilty as she reaches across the table and steals a cookie from your pile of snacks with your lunch. But you think the guilt has less to do with the cookie and is more about whatever she’s going to say.

“Usually when we talk about me it ends up being a conversation about mother. And neither of us like that topic.”

She knew that would strike a nerve with you.

She thinks that bothers you just because you hate thinking about her mother. And it’s true that you hate thinking about that woman because if you could have things your way she would be long out of the picture.

That has nothing to do with Mattie though.

What upsets you the most about what she told you is how Mattie doesn’t even want to talk to Carmilla about her problems with their mother. Mattie gets the luxury of safety while she’s away. Carmilla just has to keep suffering and Mattie doesn’t even try to help.

Carmilla’s reality is too much of a sensitive topic for her big sister, and that rubs you the wrong way.

You feel like you do everything you can to try and be there for Carmilla, while Mattie just aids her whenever it’s convenient. And it’s awful to think but sometimes a voice in your head wishes Mattie would be there for Carmilla more so you wouldn’t have to worry so much.

You always want to be there for Carmilla and will always worry about her, but it’s hard being the only one who does.

You shouldn’t have to panic so much whenever you miss a call from Carmilla, wondering if she needs something and you fear she won’t call anyone else even if she needed to. You shouldn’t have to check in on her so constantly that you feel like you’re being annoying because you know Mattie will often go weeks without talking to her.

You shouldn’t have to be her only support when Mattie claims she loves her.

“Go get yourself some real food,” you tell Carmilla, pulling some spare cash out of your backpack and giving it to her.

She nods, acknowledging the discussion of her sister has officially closed, and takes the cash because she knows you won’t take no for an answer.

As she gets up she tries to lighten things by teasing, “Like you should talk. I’m surprised your sandwich wasn’t made out of snack cakes.”

You throw her a playful glare as she walks away and you swear your ears catch a small laugh coming from her retreating form.

* * *

 

So you probably should have taken up Carmilla’s offer of letting you borrow a scarf of hers.

But you’d been in a hurry, remembering that it’s a weekday and you have an early afternoon class, so you rushed out the door with no time for her to look for one. It didn’t help that she could’ve been searching while you were stumbling around her apartment trying to hastily pull on your pants.

Class hadn’t been an issue. You wore your hair down around your neck and propped up the collar of your jacket. It was a lecture so no one was really paying you any attention anyway.

Unfortunately you returned to your dorm to find Betty there. And it only took her approximately half a second to start grilling you on where you were the night before, why you didn’t text her, and stammer, “Holy shit! What made a feast of your neck?”

“Sorry I didn’t respond, I-”

“Forget that! It’s pretty clear what you were up to! Oh my god, who was it? It was that seductress friend of yours, wasn’t it?”

You bristle slightly at Betty referring to Carmilla as a seductress. “Her name’s Carmilla and-”

“So it _was_ her!”

There’s really no point in arguing. You doubt anyone would believe you if you tried to claim that you’d let anyone who wasn’t Carmilla leave such a trail. And you’re not sure you want to hide this. You and Carmilla may not be together, but it’s pretty clear neither of you are planning on hooking up with other people so there’s not really any harm.

Except the painful inquisition you’re sure you’re going to have to endure not only from Betty but also from LaF and Perry and Kirsch…and Danny. That one’s going to be awkward.

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

“It’s not exactly a secret.”

“Well, of course it’s not with the amount of time the two of you spend looking at one another as though you want to eat each other. Which I’m glad you finally did, by the way.”

Your only reply is a groan as you flop onto your bed face-first.

“I’ll do you favor,” Betty decides. “I’ll go find LaF and Perry. That way you won’t have to repeat yourself when you see them eventually.”

“How kind of you. Why not just get Kirsch and Danny while you’re at it?”

“I mean, I could.”

“No.”

She’s probably right about LaF and Perry, you might as well get this all over with. Even Kirsch wouldn’t be a problem. It just doesn’t seem right for him to know before Danny, and you think this is a conversation you want to have with Danny alone.

“Okay, okay. Not those two. I’ll be back.”

As you lie there you start to believe that this isn’t a bad thing. You don’t want to hide whatever your relationship with Carmilla is from them like it’s something to be ashamed of. It may be unconventional but that doesn’t make it wrong or invalidate how you feel about her.

They don’t know much about your history with Carmilla. And so you like the idea of Carmilla having a fresh start with them. You want them to get along with her and that won’t happen if you’re not open about it.

LaFontaine walks in, takes one look at you, and says, “Geez, frosh. Didn’t know you were into that kind of stuff.”

It’s not the best conversation starter, and you’re not thrilled when they try to inspect you like the marks Carmilla left you are some scientific wonder. And you could have done without Perry fussing over you and fetching you some pamphlets about safe sex.

But they listen attentively as you tell them about how you were initially arguing with Carmilla and the discussion you had with her this morning. You can tell they’re still a little weary of this whole situation. They seem happy that you’re happy and relieved though.

And you’re happy they’ll give you that if nothing else.

* * *

“I slept with Carmilla.”

You had originally intended on being much more eloquent when delivering that news to Danny. Instead you wound up just ripping the band-aid off without any sort of preface. At least you’d used the concealer Perry gave you and still put on a scarf for good measure so she didn’t have a visual to match.

Clearly you’ve surprised her as she awkwardly lowers her sandwich back onto her plate and glances around the dining hall as she tries to string her thoughts together.

“Um…wow, okay.” She pauses. “What exactly do you want me to say to that?”

“Nothing,” you sigh, rethinking how you just blurted that out. “I mean, you don’t have to say anything. It’s just…LaF and Perry already know. And I’m not really hiding it. But I thought I should tell you.”

“I appreciate it.” She bites her lip in that way that you know she has a lot more to say but is letting it go.

“Was this just a hook-up or-?”

“No,” you answer almost too quickly. “It was…” This was so much easier to explain to the others but you doubt Danny wants to hear about every bit of your morning after with Carmilla so you greatly abbreviate it. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t sound good, Laura.”

“It’s the best we’ve been.” That’s probably the most honest answer you can give her. You’re not tricking yourself into thinking things are perfect, but the two of you have come a long way these past several months and you refuse to discredit that.

Danny told you less than a week ago that she would attempt to be more understanding and not as parental. And you can see she’s struggling with that right now.

“This may not be where I ultimately want us but it’s more than enough for now. If I wasn’t happy you know I wouldn’t go for this.”

Danny bobs her head in a sort of nod. “Okay. If she hurts you though, I will be going after her.”

* * *

“Oh, please. I’d love to have Xena come after me.”

“Carmilla, I didn’t tell you that as something to laugh at,” you whine. “Besides, Danny towers over you.”

“Your guard dog doesn’t scare me.”

“Will you ever try and get along with her?”

She’s not really looking at you as she puts down her burger she had just swallowed a bite of. “You say that like I’m the only one at fault here. That skyscraper probably judged me from the second she saw me at the club.”

You can’t exactly deny that.

Carmilla being a stripper is not at all the biggest problem Danny has with her, but you know Danny doesn’t totally approve of that either. She seems to think you can do better than being with a stripper. You don’t understand why her job is a factor so long as she isn’t hurting anyone.

You pop some chips into your mouth as a round of cheers over something sports-related erupts at the bar of the pub. You’d have to yell for Carmilla to hear you and you get the feeling she may not appreciate you shouting this conversation.

Once the roaring dies down, you speak up, “Do you like your job?”

“What?” She’s clearly confused by your question.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “You just seem ashamed of it even though I’ve seen it firsthand and you’re _clearly_ good at it.” You both let out a chuckle at that. “You know _I’m_ not ashamed of you, right?”

You thought you’ve made it clear that you have no problem with her job. Yet she is always so weird about it with you. You get that it’s not quite as conventional as being an accountant or something of the sorts. You don’t care though and you don’t want her to think you judge her for it.

More drunken whistles and applause ring out, and it’s for the best since it gives Carmilla a moment to think.

“I don’t dislike it,” she says eventually. “Like you said: I’m good at it. I make more money than I would waiting tables or at some minimum wage job. And it helped me when I really had nothing else. I’m not a huge fan of that club because of my lovely boss and coworkers, but the job itself I have no issue with.”

“It’s not a last resort?” You worry you’re being offensive or nosy, but you’re curious. And you like that she’s talking to you about it for once.

“No. When I first got the job I thought of it that way. Now I’m there because I choose to be.”

“If you could get a degree would you stop? Not that I’m trying to talk you out of it or anything. I-”

“Laura.” It means a lot to you that she’s still using your real name, especially in such a gentle tone. “I understand. And I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Mattie and I are doing pretty well financially right now but I don’t know if that is quite in the cards for us yet. Anymore questions?”

You give her a look for her teasing tone. “It’s going to take some time before I don’t have questions for you.”

“You know, you’re a bit of an enigma yourself.”

“Yeah, but I’m not as broody about it.”

“Instead you hide it under seven layers of sugar and dorky references.”

The two of you stay at the pub longer than either of you expected. You finish your meals and are about to leave when you get sidetracked by an old arcade game tucked away in the corner. It’s designed for two players, and you manage to talk Carmilla into playing with you.

She has no idea how to play but is super competitive, leading her to continuously accuse you of cheating. At one point she actually hip-checks you away from the machine in an attempt to get an advantage. After your third win she catches you by the waist and physically hauls you away from the machine as you cackle at the grumpy expression on her face.

The moment the two of you are outside she pulls you closer to her, resting her forehead against yours.

“I’ve been so tempted to kiss you all night,” she breathes.

“Wow. I thought you were gonna be a sore loser.”

“Not because of that stupid game.”

“You were totally enjoying…” you catch how intensely her eyes are locked onto you, causing you to trail off.

“You’re the only person who hasn’t thought differently about me because of my job.”

She’s being so serious and you’re both sad and happy at the same time. You’re sad because you wish she’d received more support over the years. You’re also selfishly happy because being an exception seems to have her placing more faith in you.

You don’t know what to say to that so you place a kiss on her cheek. That must be enough for her because she sighs contentedly and tugs you slightly closer before parting your bodies.

“Let me walk you back to your dorm.”

That rubs you the wrong way. Things had been going so well and you never thought you would have to give Carmilla the “stop being overprotective” spiel. Because it makes no sense for her to walk you back when you’re going in complete opposite directions.

“I didn’t realize the offer would send you into shock,” she jokes when you don’t respond.

“Look, Carmilla-”

“You can take care of yourself?” she fills in for you. “Trust me, I know. You trained me into that mentality a long time ago. Remember when I told off those girls picking on you? You went off on me in an empty middle school hallway for a solid ten minutes, making you late to class for the first time in your life.”

You’re surprised she remembers that. You didn’t even remember that until she mentioned it. And you’re even more surprised she’s bringing it up. You guys hadn’t necessarily been avoiding talking about old memories, but it certainly hasn’t been common for either of you to reminisce.

“We weren’t even friends at that point.” You smile at the memory.

“I know. I decided to be a good person for once and that was the thanks I got.”

“Don’t act so offended. You’ve always loved being a jerk just to rile me up. Seriously though, just go home. It’s getting late and I know you’re going to be working late tomorrow.”

“I know. Did you think that maybe I offered to walk you back just because I wanted to walk with you?”

No. You actually hadn’t thought of that.

The offer is sweet, even if a little sappy. You don’t want to take it though. You don’t want to hurry things with her, and it’s hard not to want to stumble into a relationship with her when she’s making gestures like that.

“How about I see you Saturday instead?” She seems bummed by your rejection. “Not rushing into anything, remember?” She still doesn’t seem to understand. “You just said like a minute ago that you want to kiss me.”

“After being angry for so long I didn’t think it would be this easy to want you again.”

“I can make it harder for you.”

Her brow furrows and you can tell she’s worried; like you might reveal something or say something that might start a fight.

You inhale and start chirping away, “Did you know that in the third season of Doctor Who…”

You keep going but the second she heard you bring up that television show a look of dread appeared in her eyes. She turns and starts walking away and you swear you can hear a slight laugh in her voice as she calls over her shoulder, “Goodnight, Laura.”

You giggle as you take off in the other direction.

But once you’re back at your dorm you send off a text to her telling her you got back safe and sound.

* * *

“I can call them back and tell them to bring in one of the other girls.”

“Carm, I’m serious,” you assure her as you stand and start gathering your things. “It’s not a big deal. They’re down a dancer with one sick and I told you to go in. All we were going to do was eat sandwiches and watch a movie.”

She looks like she’s still not convinced you don’t mind. “It’s just…I could use the money. And…”

You sit back down next to her and place your hand on her knee. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

She still seems to have something on her mind and you can’t tell if it’s because she has some issue with discussing her job with you. You still don’t understand that apprehension of hers but you won’t push as much as you’re dying to know. You don’t want her to tell you because she feels like she has to. You want to get to a point where she _wants_ to tell you.

“Okay,” she agrees with a nod. “You don’t have to rush out of here though. I’m going to get my stuff. But take your time. Eat your sandwich.”

You’re hungry and the couch is rather comfortable so you don’t argue. Carmilla disappears as you settle further into the cushions and unwrap your food.

It’s become fairly common for you to hang out at Carmilla’s apartment over the past few weeks, and you like the place more than you’d expected. Despite it’s location it’s almost always quieter than your dorm. And as much as you love your friends it’s nice to be somewhere that they aren’t always barging in. You think you’ve actually gotten more schoolwork done in this apartment than you have in your dorm lately.

And while many people would find the darker color scheme and dim lighting eerie or depressing, you’ve come to find it rather comfortable. It makes you feel at ease when you’re doing work or like you could just drift off for a nap.

“Gotta go,” Carmilla informs you as she makes her way back into the room a couple minutes later. She sees you start to stand and immediately gestures for you to sit back down and grabs her sandwich to go. “You can stay. Finish eating first. I’ll text you later.”

You don’t really get a chance to question her before she’s out the door. You only have about half your sandwich left so you decide to take her advice and finish up. It’s weird not having Carmilla with you though, leading you to eat quickly and head to the kitchen to toss your trash.

You’re just making your way out of the kitchen when the front door opens and you expect it to be Carmilla having forgotten something.

Instead Mattie is in the doorway and for whatever reason she doesn’t seem all too surprised you’re there.

“Of course you’re here,” she comments, entering the apartment and putting down her things. She looks around and seems to notice Carmilla isn’t around. “And where is my sister?”

“She just left for work and I was on my way out the door.” You could probably do a better job of hiding your disdain for Mattie, but you don’t care to. It’s not like it’s a secret that the two of you don’t get along.

“Oh god. You’re already that comfortable here? This is a nightmare waiting to happen.”

Mattie has always had a way of goading you into arguments without really trying. Despite how much you’ve been here over the past weeks you had managed to avoid her so far. Now you’re stuck with her and Carmilla isn’t even around to shoo her away.

And you hate that for a second you think about how she has a point. It shouldn’t be a huge deal that you’ve gotten used to the apartment; the same could happen if you were purely friends with Carmilla. But that hasn’t stopped your brain from second-guessing itself more than once. As slow as you and Carmilla have been taking things, you still worry it’s been too much and that it’s bound to blow up in your face.

Mattie doesn’t need to know that though.

“Don’t strain yourself with concern,” you bite back sarcastically. “I haven’t done anything to hurt her.”

“Not yet anyways. You just have her right back in that same doe-eyed trance she falls into so easily.”

You had picked up your jacket but you throw it back onto the couch in frustration. “This isn’t going to work a second time.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She’s doing that thing where she steps in toward you like an animal closing in on its prey.

You refuse to be intimidated by her though. “Last time you convinced me that Carmilla was better off without me. I broke her heart by staying away and I won’t do that again.”

“You think you’re special? Has she not told you about the wretched blonde she fell head over heels for in your absence?”

You admit that you know very little about Carmilla’s relationship with Ell other than it didn’t end well. But that isn’t really what Mattie is trying to talk about. She’s only trying to diminish any sort of connection between you and Carmilla.

“You want to know what I think?” you snap. “I think the real reason you hate me so much is because I gave Carmilla the support she needed when you didn’t have the guts to.”

“And where have you been-?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” you cut her off. You’re so sick of listening to her when she is such a hypocrite. “I may not have been around the past few years but at least I didn’t sit idly by while my own sister was being used as a punching bag.”

“Tread very carefully with what you’re about to say,” Mattie warns you.

She has moved closer to try and tower over you in her blood red heels but you’re too angry to care.

“No. Sure, you used to help patch her up. But only after you would watch her receive those beatings. You let this go on for over a year. You never tried to get her any kind of help. You would have let her stay in that house until she _died_.

“All because of what? Your mother never laid a hand on you. She may have played her own mind games with you but that’s not an excuse to let your _little sister_ get hurt that way. And you know it. Or else you wouldn’t hate that I had the guts to report it even if it meant losing Carmilla for myself. I did what you were too scared to and you loathe that.”

With your rant you’ve accomplished something you never thought possible: you’ve left Mattie at a loss for words. Her fists are clenching and her eyes are locked onto you like a target, and you know you’ve hit a nerve. You’ve thrown every doubt about herself she’s had right back in her face.

Her hand shoots up as if to grab your throat and you thank your dad for sending you to krav maga classes as you bat her arm aside and duck away from her. She makes no other move to go after you as you gather up your things and head for the door.

You hesitate in the doorway, debating turning back. You have plenty of other things you could say to her. She made you feel so awful about yourself after Carmilla landed in the hospital, as if you didn’t already do enough of that on your own. And for a moment you think that she deserves the same verbal lashing she’s always ready and willing to distribute.

You’re angry, but you don’t want to be the kind of person who takes joy in someone else’s pain so you slam the door behind you and hurry yourself out of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it. And, as per usual, special thanks to all of you who comment and leave kudos :)


	12. Superhuman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura's trying to hide all her shit and Carmilla is buying exactly none of it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I suck. Sorry for such long waiting periods. I've been super busy, including writing pages and pages of other stuff for classes. 
> 
> But enough excuses, on with the chapter (finally)!

You know Carmilla has probably caught you staring but you can’t help it.

You just keep finding yourself looking at the bruising around her eye.

She’d skipped school just so she wouldn’t have to answer anyone’s questions about how she got it. The last time she’d gone to school with bruises in sight and a teacher asked about it she’d requested that they “politely fuck off”. It’d gotten her a detention and a lot more questions so she definitely wasn’t looking for a repeat experience.

“Laura?” she speaks up to get your attention. “Did you want help with that paper or not?”

“Oh…um, yeah,” you stutter out, fumbling through your backpack for a specific folder.

You’re having a hard time finding it because your mind is in a million different places. You have at least eight different assignments due in the next two days, one of which being a group project. And one of your group members had been rather rude to your earlier, making some distasteful comments about you to the rest of the group as though you weren’t sitting right there.

You tried to settle the situation civilly before going off on her. Then your teacher blamed _you_ for the disruption and sent you to the _principal_. You’re still furious about it, having been thinking about what happened all day.

“You’re acting kind of weird, even for you. Did I miss something today?”

As well as you’ve learned to read Carmilla over the years, she has picked up the same skill in return. It’s both a blessing and curse. She’s able to know when you’re bothered, but when you wish she didn’t know it becomes problematic.

And in this case you wish she didn’t pick up on it.

Because _dear god_ you want to vent to her; rant and rave about that girl in your class and your pig-headed principal who lectured you for a solid hour straight, taking up your entire lunchtime. You want her to know how much all of the work you have due is stressing you out so she can calm you like she somehow always manages to.

Then you see that black eye again and all the words get caught in your throat.

Your problems don’t compare to hers. That girl said some harsh things about you but she didn’t physically attack you. You can go home from school at the end of the day and be away from her. Carmilla couldn’t even go into school because of a swollen eye courtesy of her own mother.

So how can you complain about your insignificant problems?

You should be asking her how she’s doing; if she wants ice for her eye or if she wants to stay at your place. Why haven’t you asked her these things already? You haven’t had to help someone in a position like this before. You don’t know how and you feel like you’re already dropping the ball.

“If you start talking about my eye I’m throwing you out.”

“Huh?” you hadn’t realized you were staring again, and Carmilla finally decided to call you on it.

“I’m trying to ask what’s up with you and all you’re doing is staring at my face. We’ve already established I got this lovely shiner from my mother. That discussion is over. So if you try and bring it up again without telling me why you’re so off, I will be pissed.”

She won’t let you talk about her eye, but you can’t talk about your stupid problems like they would ever come close to being abused by your own parent.

So you finally tug out your paper that you’ve been working on out of the folder and hand it to Carmilla, “Sorry, I’m just kind of spacey today. Can you look this over? It’s due tomorrow and I have other stuff I really need to work on too.”

That’s it. That’s the extent of your stress you’re willing to reveal to her.

She rolls her eyes but takes your paper, and it couldn’t be more clear that she knows you’re bullshitting her.

* * *

“Now I know how you feel.”

“What do you mean?”

She puts her book down and runs her hands over your calves that are resting on her thighs. You put your homework aside and allow yourself to enjoy the way she starts working her fingers into the muscles there.

“You’re tense.” As if to punctuate her point she digs her fingers in deeper to the point that it’s slightly painful, though ultimately relieving. “Something’s on your mind and I can’t figure out what.”

This is the first time you’ve seen Carmilla since you had it out with Mattie. From the moment she showed up at your dorm it was abundantly clear that Mattie had said nothing about it. You’re not sure why she hasn’t or if she plans to, but you’re hesitant to bring it up to Carmilla.

You suppose that you now understand how she feels a lot of the time; that you fear bringing up certain things because it might ruin any progress you two have made.

“It’s really not a big deal,” you lie, trying to ease the tension out of your muscles. “I just got into an argument with someone and it’s still under my skin.”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe you.

You worry this will start a fight or that she might push you on the topic and you’ll wind up spilling everything.

Carmilla has never been one to push though, so she simply reaches a hand to turn your chin to look you in the eyes. “Whenever you’re ready.”

There’s not hint of anger or annoyance in her words. She’s simply assuring you she’ll be there whenever you decide to talk. She goes back to her book and you stare at her in awe for a moment before returning to your homework.

* * *

“Should I call her? I should call her.”

“What you should do is chill, frosh,” LaFontaine tells you as you continue to pace a hole into your floorboards.

“But Mattie could say something to her.”

“Why would that be such a bad thing? It seems like she would believe you either way.”

“Mattie can be so manipulative though. And I don’t want this to be something I’ve kept from her.”

“Then tell her.”

“But then I also have to explain why I gave up on her.” Your voice has gotten progressively more hysterical.

“Shouldn’t you probably discuss that with her anyway?”

They have a point.

Carmilla wasn’t wrong when she called you an enigma. You keep your cards pretty close to your chest, and rarely even realize it. If the two of you are supposed to be communicating and opening up to each other so you can be together than you should be considering breaching this topic with her.

You’re not very good at collecting your thoughts and memories and feelings from when you cut yourself off from Carmilla though. It’s a rather painful blur. It’s hard not to recall how much guilt was involved, and you’re not sure you can articulate it all to her.

There are so many things you don’t want to explain to her because you feel terrible for ever having felt them.

But not having this conversation is stressing you out to levels you couldn’t have predicted.

“You know what? You’re right. I need to girl the hell up and work through this with her.”

LaF is wearing a face of utmost amusement as you determinedly find your phone and call Carmilla. Your momentum crashes when you get her voicemail. Looking at the time, you realize calling at that moment was a stupid idea because she’s definitely at work.

“That went well,” LaF remarks, earning a look from you. “How about something to take your mind off of all of this instead? I heard the Zetas are hosting a pizza and beer tasting in the north quad.”

“Pizza and beer tasting?”

“Classy, right?”

You agree to go with them, knowing that if nothing else you’ll get free food out of it.

And it helps. All of your friends are there. Even the Summer Society somehow decided to go to a Zeta event, resulting in a bit of a food fight along the way. You somehow get roped into the flinging of pizza slices, and actually find yourself having fun.

LaF joins in right alongside you while Perry attempts to hide, nearly throwing herself into a panic over the mess being made. The fairly innocent food fight starts getting serious, bows being drawn and tridents showing up seemingly out of nowhere.

You decide to ditch with LaF and Perry back to the dorm, not wanting to get stabbed by any rogue weapons. Perry frets over LaF as you’re all walking, attempting to clean them off as best as she can. You probably look just as stupid with cheese in your hair and sauce staining your clothes.

But even despite Perry’s worried state, the three of you are still laughing and smiling from then craziness of the food fight.

You’re just outside your building when your phone starts to go off. You fish it out of your pocket to see Carmilla’s name flashing across the screen. LaF is looking at you, trying to read if you’re okay. You don’t want them to wait up for you though, so you wave for the two of them to go inside.

“Hey,” you answer the call once they’re in.

“Hey,” Carmilla’s voice rings out. She actually sounds like she’s in a decent mood, when normally she just sounds tired when she gets off of work. “You called earlier?”

“Yeah, I did.”

You don’t add anymore context, stuck on what to tell her. You know you should probably just rip the band-aid off and tell her about what happened with Mattie. If you don’t, Mattie could say something first and spin the whole story.

But you doubt Mattie will say anything if she hasn’t already.

And this isn’t a conversation you want to start with Carmilla this late over the phone.

“Okay…are you gonna tell me what you were calling about?” Carmilla’s tone is playful, though there is worry laced underneath it.

“Oh, sorry I was trying to think.” Not really a lie. “I just-I can’t remember why I called you earlier.” That’s definitely a lie, and a very bad one at that. “I wanted to ask you something but I guess it wasn’t important.”

It’s quiet for several seconds, and you can tell she doesn’t really believe you.

“Laura,” she says your name so gently you can’t imagine there was ever a time she hated you. “This isn’t a one-way street. You can talk to me.”

You didn’t realize you were starting to cry until a hot tear rolls down your cheek. You don’t even really know why you’re crying. As satisfying as going off on Mattie had been, she had still managed to drag out all this guilt and doubt you’d been working past. And Carmilla is just being so nice and considerate after everything you’ve done.

“Just…I just don’t want to have this conversation like this,” you tell her, trying to keep your voice even so she doesn’t know how upset you are.

It doesn’t seem to work. “I’m already in my car anyway. Do you want me to come over?”

“No,” you say a little too quickly. “This discussion can seriously wait. Are you still around Thursday night?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then?”

“Of course.”

You hang up and try to pull yourself together before heading up to your room. When you open the door you find Betty already passed out in her bed. You check the time on your phone, not realizing how late you had been out.

You feel drained as you get ready for bed, still sniffling occasionally and finding tears burning at the bottom of your eyes. You’re just about to climb under your covers and attempt to sleep when you hear light knocking at your door. You’re confused because none of your friends ever knock that quietly and you almost decide to ignore it.

Curiosity gets the better of you and you go to pull open the door.

Carmilla is standing there, still looking like a knockout from work; her hair and makeup done to perfection. She’s wearing her leather vest over what you’re pretty sure is the only white shirt she owns and one of her pairs of black skinny jeans.

It’s quite the contrast to your disheveled state in a tank top and flannel pants.

“What are you doing here?”

She glances at the floor, actually looking shy. “Your request for me to stay away didn’t sound very convincing.”

You’re confused because you truly had wanted her to just go home. You didn’t want to talk at the moment, and you certainly didn’t expect her to drive over just because you sounded a little upset.

“Carm, I’m really not looking to talk right now and-”

“Who said anything about talking?”

She steps past you into your room, taking notice of Betty fast asleep before moving into the small kitchen area. You attempt to follow her and ask what on earth she’s doing, but she flicks her wrist at you in a shooing motion to tell you to go sit.

You don’t really have the energy to argue with her, so you heed her order and plop onto your bed. Swinging your legs up to stretch out across the mattress, you lean back against your headboard and attempt look over at what she’s doing.

It doesn’t take you long to figure out she’s making hot cocoa, and it’s a good thing Betty could sleep through a nuclear war because she isn’t being particularly quiet.

Your heart almost melts at the sight of Carmilla sitting herself next to you with a mug for each of you. It’s quiet as the two of you sit there and take small sips, trying not to burn your mouths. You’re almost squirming because you have so much you feel you should say to her, but can’t bring yourself to. Carmilla seems perfectly content though; head tipped back and eyes closed like she could fall asleep easily.

The bed isn’t very wide and you keep shifting around, bumping your arm into Carmilla’s repeatedly. She notices this and decides to make more room by bringing her arm up and draping it over your shoulders.

Still so desperate to break the silence, you comment, “I thought we were supposed to be platonic with each other.”

She smirks. “It’s not like I’m eating you out right now.”

Your jaw drops and she starts chuckling when she sees the look on your face. You really weren’t expecting that response, whether she has a point or not.

As your surprise fades, you can’t resist getting her back. “I didn’t realize having your tongue on my vagina was the minimum standard for passing the point of friendship.”

She nearly chokes on her hot chocolate that, causing you to start laughing.

And it’s amazing the way she has only been with you for about ten minutes and already made you forget everything you were worrying about.

You allow yourself to snuggle in closer to her, and don’t even realize when you begin to drift off to sleep.

* * *

“You’re such a sap.”

“Because I left you a note informing you I had to leave?”

“Because you showed up even though I told you not to, and left me a note that didn’t have a hint of your usual sarcasm.”

“Would you not have called me incessantly to make sure I was okay if I left without a trace?”

A grin tugs at the corner of your mouth, knowing you’ve won this argument. “I would have. But that doesn’t mean you’re not a sap.”

“We’re not even together.” That fact doesn’t particularly pain you, and you’re happy because you feel it’s because you’re just genuinely comfortable with her. You want to be more, but you don’t feel pressured for it to go further.

“Still doesn’t mean you’re not a sap.”

“I guess I just have to stop being so nice to you.”

You actually laugh at that. Weeks ago that thought would’ve terrified you. But Carmilla has been becoming more and more of a permanent fixture again, and even when she was pissed with you she wasn’t great at being mean to you.

“Good luck with that.”

Instead of pursuing the argument, she picks up the paper for one of your classes and begins looking it over. You had wanted someone to review it and you figured with how much Carmilla reads she might be pretty helpful. While she’s occupied with that you try and make yourself comfortable on the hard chairs the dorm really should replace. The “cushioning” seemed to be more for show than anything.

The two of you had gotten dinner at one of the dining halls on campus before retreating back to your building. You know Betty is trying to cram for a test tomorrow though, so you suggested going to one of the lounges so the two of you wouldn’t disturb her with any bickering.

She seems to be reading rather carefully, so you pull out your phone and start playing games with the assumption that this will take some time.

“Did you even proofread this?” she asks from her sprawled-out position on the equally uncomfortable couch.

“No,” you admit.

“I can tell,” she laughs. “One of your sentences has the phrase ‘he claimed he had no intention of putting boobs on the ground’.”

“What?” you squeak, flying over to the couch and grabbing the paper from her hands as she rather poorly suppresses her laughter. “It’s supposed to say ‘boots on the ground’!”

“You sure about that? Where was your mind when you wrote this?”

You throw the small stack of papers onto her chest. “Please just finish editing it.”

“Should I look out for more subtext?”

“You’re not funny.”

“Then why are you grinning?”

You attempt to shift to the most serious face you can manage, but that just makes her chuckle more. She goes back to editing, and you plop back into the chair.

You keep shifting around, failing repeatedly to find a good way to sit. Carmilla seems to notice this, looking up from your paper and studying you. When you stop she goes back to work. The second you shift again her eyes are back on you.

“I have a question for you.”

“If it has anything to do with boobs I swear to god-”

“Relax. I’m not aiming to tease you for once.”

“Then ask me anything,” you tell her, depositing your phone on the wooden coffee table.

“Why are we here?”

“I told you. Betty has an exam tomorrow and-”

“Not the lounge,” she clarifies. “Why are we even on campus? Whatever we just ate the dining hall barely qualifies as food and this lounge is far from comfortable. We could’ve gotten take-out and hung out in my much cozier apartment, but when I suggested that you completely dodged the idea.”

“I feel bad that you always host.” It actually would’ve been a pretty good lie if you hadn’t said it so hurriedly.

She sits up and sighs. “Does how you’ve been acting have to do with Mattie?”

She’s getting too close to being right and it’s panicking you. “No, of course not.”

“Because she’s been in a mood for as long as you’ve been acting strange. And you seem to be avoiding my apartment.”

“Nope, not avoiding. We can go right now if you’d like.” You’re just praying Mattie won’t be there.

“Nah, my place is kind of boring.” Her tone is taking on that snark that means she knows she’s right and is totally about to corner you. “How about we go grab drinks instead? I could invite Mattie along since there isn’t a problem.”

“Okay fine,” you cave. “Yes, I have been acting weird because of Mattie. But it’s not exactly news that she pisses me off.”

“Look, Laura. I don’t need you to tell me every thought in your head. And I know we pretty much agreed not to push each other. But when you’re clearly bothered, my sister is pissed off all the time, and you make me eat whatever crap we just had at that dining hall instead of take-out it’s nice to know the bare minimum.”

“I just-she makes me so…ugh!” Your hands flail in aggravation.

“Did she hurt you or say anything to you?”

You almost laugh at the irony. You can’t believe she’s immediately making Mattie out to be the villain. Sure, you believe Mattie is messed up on like five different levels. But in your most recent encounter with her, you’re the one who went for the throat.

“No,” you assure her. “I actually kind of told her off.”

She seems both impressed and surprised Mattie let you live.

She doesn’t say anything else though; she simply nods. She picks on you for being nosy, but you can tell she wants to know what’s going on in your head.

You loathe the feeling that the two of you are in some ways still walking on thin ice with each other. Carmilla’s starting to open up to you and you think that maybe you want to start doing the same. Your emotions always overwhelm you when you dwell on the past and it would be nice for someone to ease some of that.

“I never really did explain to you why I left,” you blurt out before you can regret it. “Why I never visited you in the hospital. Why I didn’t try and contact you.”

You’ve clearly caught her interest, yet she still tries to be considerate, “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you owe me an explanation.”

“Don’t I though?” You can already feel words getting caught in your throat. “I had my reasons but in the end I still failed you.”

You get up and sit next to her on the couch. She’s watching your every move carefully, analyzing you like she can’t afford to miss a single signal. A part of you wishes she’d take your hand or wrap an arm around you as some sort of comfort. But at the same time you think you might launch yourself into an even bigger guilt trip if she does.

“I felt like I failed you way before you ended up in that hospital,” you begin. Carmilla’s face drops at the allusion to her run-in with death. “We were always around each other and for the longest time I didn’t even realize your mother was beating you. How many bruises and scratches did I miss because I was so blind to the idea of anything being wrong in the world?”

Carmilla bites her lip. “You can’t blame yourself for something I hid from you.”

“Then where does the blame start? When you told me your mother was beating you and I didn’t immediately report it? When I hid away in the next room over while she shoved you around? When I saw you cry or black out from her beatings and I still let you stay there? Or when you nearly died and I could have prevented that situation in a hundred different ways?”

Tears are falling and you feel ridiculous for crying so much lately.

“I’m sorry.”

As upset as you are, it quickly flashes to anger. “Why _the hell_ are you _apologizing_?”

“I asked you to keep quiet. And it took its toll on you more than you want to admit.”

“Damnit, Carmilla.” You huff in frustration. “I’m not looking for an apology. I don’t even deserve one. Being guilty isn’t an excuse for ditching you.”

“Then why are you telling me this?”

That question breaks your heart a little. You feel so bad that Carmilla seems to think people would only share things with her in hopes of getting something in return. She would never admit it but, just like you, she always feels like she’s to blame.

“I’m trying to explain to you why I left so you can know,” you almost snap. “I don’t have an ulterior motive here. I just think you deserve it.”

Unable to come up with a verbal response, she nods slowly.

Your voice is thick as you continue, “I felt like I was such a bad friend that I would only keep hurting you by staying in your life. After going to the hospital with you I stayed for a long time that you were unconscious before my dad finally talked me into stopping home to get some rest. He refused to let me go back and visit. He did everything to keep me from going back. He wound up shipping me off to my grandparent’s house for a few months after I tried sneaking out multiple times. It’s why we haven’t gotten along in years.”

“I knew he hated me, but that’s a little extreme,” Carmilla remarks.

“I was a mess and he decided the best thing for me was distance from you. Especially if you didn’t make it in the end.” You don’t agree with what your dad did at all but you kind of see his reasoning, as much as you wish you didn’t. “I tried so hard to get word about how you were doing. I was desperate. And so that’s how I ended up on the phone with Mattie.”

How you have ended up in this conversation clicks into place for Carmilla and her eyebrows shoot up. You can tell she already doesn’t like where this is going.

“You know how she is; she doesn’t have to lie to manipulate you. She told me that you were alive and would be okay. For that I give her some credit. But then she proceeded to pick at every doubt in my head. She told me about how it was my fault you could’ve died or lost half of your brain function. She told me I would only make things more difficult for you by showing back up. She told me I didn’t deserve to be in your life and that you were better off without me.”

Carmilla shoots up from her seat, her hands clenching. “She said all of that?”

You think she’s missing your point. “Yeah, but…these were thoughts I already had in my head. She just…drove them further.”

“That doesn’t make it okay, Laura,” she hisses. And it’s one of those times you almost wish she would use one of her decorative nicknames for you instead. “God, I am so _tired_ of people playing my life like a chess game.”

There’s that insecurity. That lack of control she fears terribly. Her mother had been quite the puppet master, and so to find out Mattie has done her fair share of string pulling is quite the blow.

“Look, Carm.” You still have stuff you want to say and explain, but you can feel her slipping away in her anger for her sister.

“No, she had _no right_.” She hastily gathers her things and head for the door. “And she needs to know that.”

She’s out the door in an instant.

You want to be happy that she’s going to go stand up to her big sister, something she never would have even thought to do when you were younger.

But more than anything you feel a little empty that she didn’t stay to hear everything you had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting to put trigger warnings, but basically child abuse is one that's going to come up all over this story.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, I will keep trying my best to get chapters out as soon as I can. You're all awesome. Those who leave kudos and comments are basically saints in my book


	13. Follow You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla works shit out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was making a lot of progress on this chapter in harmony but everything changed when Rottenberg attacked. If you have no clue what I'm talking about, you're lucky.
> 
> I actually have some free time this week though, so maybe the next update will be somewhat soon.

“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting the elderly?”

“You mean spending time with my grandparents?”

“Same difference.”

You hear that sigh Laura always gives you when she doesn’t feel like arguing crackle through the other end of the call. “Did you need something?”

Shifting on your bed, you wince from the ache of your back where you’re sure bruises are forming. You don’t know why you called Laura for comfort from your mother’s wrath. She doesn’t have any idea what’s going on and you don’t want to drag her into it.

Hiding it is getting harder and harder though. She’s started to question why you’ve been so weird about changing around her. You’ve heard too many lectures from her about showing up ridiculously late to school all the time. But it’s not your fault you barely get any sleep when your stomach is empty. Most of the time you have to wait until your mom finally leaves for work until you can make something out of the scraps in the kitchen.

For the same reason you know Laura has noticed you’ve been stealing even more snacks in her house. She’ll playfully call you a jerk, but you can’t even find it in you to crack a grin when she teases you about it.

“I’m bored,” you lie. “I thought you might enjoy a break from the dusty folks.”

“It’s ten o’clock at night. They’re already in bed.”

“And your dad?”

She laughs, and in response you smile for the first time since you saw her three days ago. It can’t be healthy that she is the only thing that makes you smile nowadays but you figure it’s better than not knowing happiness at all.

“He is passed out on the living room couch,” she tells you. “My grandparents have had him at work since we walked through the door.”

“And I’m guessing you’re being treated like their little princess?”

“Of course. They give me all the junk food I ask for.”

“Your dad must be thrilled.”

“I’m pretty sure he has said the words ‘diabetes’ and ‘heart attack’ to me at least fifty times just today.”

The two of you chuckle and it’s quiet for a moment before you ask, “So when will you be back?”

“Does someone miss me?”

Duh.

But you’re not going to say that. To be honest, it goes without saying.

Sure, it’s only been three days. But in three days you’ve found enough reasons to miss her. There’s a six-pack of grape soda in the fridge and no one to share it with. You have two movies you want to watch, but you know you’ll enjoy them more if you have Laura spazzing about them next to you.

You’re also sick of your only company being whatever pain your mother dishes out. Laura is way more to you than an escape, but you could really use a getaway too.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Are you okay? You sound like you’re half-asleep.”

That doesn’t surprise you. You feel absolutely drained. You don’t even remember why exactly you thought it would be a good idea to call Laura. It’s like you’re asking to slip-up and spill the tales of your shitty home.

“Yeah, I could probably use some sleep.”

“Are you sure that’s it?”

You shift again, gritting your teeth as the pain flares up. “Yeah, things have been pretty uneventful around here.”

“That town is always uneventful. I’ll be home Wednesday.”

“Save me from this boredom.”

“Goodnight, Carm.”

“Goodnight, Laura.”

* * *

You shouldn’t have gone after Mattie.

She beyond deserved it, but you should’ve waited until you calmed down. You know she has a way of making you seem hysterical and ridiculous when you’re worked up. You didn’t think any of this through and now you’re still too pissed to go back to the apartment, roaming the cold streets far later than you probably should be.

_“How could you do that? How could you drive away the only person I ever connected with?”_

_“She tore our family apart. And-”_

_“You say that like it was anything worth keeping together. Don’t tell me mother didn’t deserve to wind up in prison. And maybe you should think about why Will doesn’t even want anything to do with us.”_

You have no idea where you’ve even been going and your feet are tired, so you plop yourself down on the curb. You rest your elbows on your bent knees and bury your hands in your hair.

God, this is so messed up.

You have never had any sort of functional relationship in your life.

Your relationship with your mother was beyond terrible. You were never your brother’s biggest fan, but he now despises you. You haven’t really had anyone you’d consider a real friend. Your sister is a sociopath whether you love her or not. Ell was a toxic relationship from the start.

What you had with Laura was pure for a while. But that’s been dragged to hell and back and you’re not quite sure “functional” is the right word to use.

You want to go to her for comfort. You can’t do that though, not when you walked out on her hours earlier when she was finally letting you in. You can’t go to her now and make this all about yourself.

_“What gave you the right to try and control me? My life isn’t a game for you to play, Mattie.”_

_“Calm down, kitty cat. I was only trying to protect you. That girl would’ve come back and where would that have gone? You were going to get dragged away in the system anyway. It was about time the two of you said goodbye.”_

_“That was not for you to decide!”_

You’ve never been one for yelling. You’ve always been a quiet person, lurking in the background. Even in confrontation, you go for quiet and deadly words rather than roaring exclamations. Mattie is not an easy person to surprise, yet the way you screamed at her clearly took her aback.

It also gave you quite the headache that is still yet to subside. You’re rubbing at your temples, and you know what your body is craving to help ease your pain. You don’t have the energy to go looking for painkillers though, so you guess you’ve resolved yourself to suffering for the night.

_“I loved her and you knew that.”_

_“Mircalla-”_

_“Do. Not. Call me that.”_

_“You were seventeen years old, with hardly an idea of how love actually works. It was nothing worth throwing your life away.”_

Considering your life has landed you alone in the cold again, you really don’t think having Laura around could’ve done much more harm to you.

With her you wouldn’t have been throwing you life away. You would’ve been building one that actually made you feel worth something. In the past few months, working through things with her has taught you so much about yourself. She’s been making you a better person.

You’ve actually started having passing conversations with your coworkers. You’ve looked into the possibility of any sort of higher education. You even cleaned your goddamn room for once. Only after letting it drive her nuts the first few times she visited, but still.

_“You always hate when I compare you to Maman-”_

_“This again? How dare you-”_

_“She fucked you up too, Mattie. Just accept that. It’s okay that you’re not perfect. Stop trying to act like you made it out of that house unscathed. You’re always taking it out on me. And I let you because I love you, but at what point are you abusing me too?”_

You know you can’t stay on the edge of the street at this time of night, so you continue wander until you find what you’re looking for.

The small park thankfully has a playground with an obnoxiously bright blue tunnel slide. You climb to the top where the slope flattens out for about two feet and curl up in there. You slept in places like this multiple times when you were homeless, so you know you don’t need a bed to fall asleep.

You’re exhausted enough that you drift off, but are also stressed out enough that you keep waking up every half an hour or so with the same thoughts playing in your head.

At some point that you only vaguely recall, you at least manage to send off a text to Laura.

**Carmilla (2:35 AM):** I shouldn’t have left. I’ll make it up to you.

* * *

It’s been about twenty-four hours since you stormed out of your own apartment.

You’re practically falling asleep standing up, you have spent far too much of that time mentally berating yourself, and your skull feels like it is slowly splitting open. You’re also not quite sure how long your hands have been trembling for.

And instead of resting, you’re working.

For a while, you’re actually glad you’re working. It’s a great distraction and you don’t even notice how tired you’re getting as you’re kept busy. You realize you’re being a bit more aggressive with some of the customers, but they must be into it because you get even better tips than usual.

But as the hours spent at the club drag on, your mood begins to sour. You’re just packing up to leave when you snap without even being able to explain why.

You find Theo on the floor and grab his forearm, hauling him into one of the backrooms.

“Well, Miss Karnstein,” he says rather haughtily, “I was pretty sure you didn’t swing this way but-”

“Don’t make me vomit,” you snap at the implication to shut him up. “How much are you selling for?”

The question was vague, but the way he looks at you makes it clear he knows what you’re talking about. “I don’t carry out business here.”

“Bullshit. I’m not an idiot. You’ve been smart; I’ll give you that. You don’t try and sell your drugs to the dancers because that would be too obvious to the Baron. I’m sure the customers are a better market anyway since they clearly have some cash to blow.”

“Why would I sell to you? You could easily go to our boss and have me ruined? It’s not a secret that you don’t like me.”

“Because you could now rat me out to Vordenberg. I’m risking just as much as you are here. So are you going to make me a deal or not?”

* * *

**Laura (12:23 AM):** I’m in my room and Betty’s gone for the night if you wanna come by

You keep staring at the message on your screen in both awe and self-loathing. Awe because Laura was being rather gracious about how you just left and self-loathing because you don’t deserve it. You managed to do exactly what you didn’t want and made this whole situation about you.

You don’t even remember knocking but the cheap wooden door in front of you slowly opens to reveal Laura standing there, still completely dressed for the day. She hasn’t even ditched the black blazer that doesn’t look entirely comfortable.

“Hey,” she says, and you can tell she’s trying to gauge your mood.

“Hey,” you reply solemnly.

She retreats back into the room, leaving the door open for you to let yourself in. You take a deep breath before following her, shoulders slumped and head spinning. She’s sitting on the edge of her bed and you don’t know if she wants you close or not so you sit yourself across from her on her roommate’s bed.

You cast your backpack aside, knowing an untouched bag of pills lies within and you want them away from you. Handing over so much money you shouldn’t be wasting to your smug coworker only made you beat yourself up more.

“You look exhausted,” she comments. “I wouldn’t have been upset if you didn’t show up.”

“Don’t lie like that,” you tell her. You catch the slightest smile tugging at the corner of her lips, like she’s amazed how well you know her.

“I would’ve understood though.”

“Yeah, but I kind of already ditched you once. I wasn’t looking to repeat the offense.”

“I get why you left.”

“Doesn’t make it right. I kept trying to make you as comfortable as possible to talk to me, and then I didn’t even let you finish.”

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” she tells you, and you’re dreading where this is going. You worry she may have decided a relationship between the two of you won’t work, or even keeping up a friendship. “I think I figured out where many of our issues lie.”

“Oh, really?”

She gets up to come sit next to you so your thighs are just barely brushing against each other. “We spend so much time worrying about each other’s problems and our own problems when so many of them are almost the _same_ problem.”

You give a slight nod to indicate your understanding. Her father, your sister, your mother – both of your issues tend to stem from these same places. You’ve both made mistakes but those errors all still connect.

Every last bit of your nerves are still frayed beyond belief, and your hands haven’t stopped trembling, your body craving the drugs to make them stop. Of course Laura notices, reaching over to curl her fingers over your hands that have laced together in attempt to steady themselves.

You can tell she’s waiting on you to talk, and you feel bad that you continue to delay her from finishing what she was saying last night.

“I really still don’t think I can talk about Mattie without getting pissed off,” you tell her. “You can talk about her though. Finish everything you wanted to say to me last night.”

She bites her lip. “It’s not important.”

“And I’m not falling for that. I know I left, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to hear what you had to say. I just…got distracted.”

Her hand withdraws like she shouldn’t be touching you, and you can tell she’s feeling guilty again. That she is putting the blame for all your misery on her shoulders because she’ll blame herself before anyone else.

“There wasn’t much more to tell it’s just…” she mulls over the words. “You didn’t have to leave and go after Mattie like that. Because what she did may not have been right, but she can’t be put at fault for me leaving. Like I said, all those thoughts were already in my head. I pretty much had already decided you were better off without me. I was making decisions for you too.”

“Laura,” you murmur her name, but you can’t find any words to come after it.

“It was selfish too. I knew I couldn’t stand to watch you suffer anymore. When really I should have stayed around to help and-”

“Okay, stop.” At the beginning of this conversation you had wanted to hear her out, but you’re not going to let her do this. “I put you in an impossible position from the start. I didn’t think about how hard all of it would be for you, and look where that brought us.”

“No, you weren’t wrong in telling me. And there are so many things I could have done better.”

You sigh because this is a part of Laura you have always simultaneously admired and wanted to strangle. “You did everything you felt you could at the time, and I couldn’t have asked for more than that. You can’t be perfect, Laura. You can’t handle every situation thrown your way without flaw. I will be forever grateful for all the time you spent with me while I was hurting.”

Her fingers quickly swipe at her watery eyes. “Where’s the Carmilla that hated me for the way I handled things all of a few months ago?”

You shift on the bed so you’re facing her more, reaching up to better wipe away the tears she simply dabbed at. “She doesn’t exist anymore. Because she saw that you only ever tried to do what was best. And while that is frustrating beyond belief, she would rather enjoy being around you again.”

And it’s true. You feel like you’ve wasted so much time being angry with her when you know she never would’ve intentionally hurt you. It gets under your skin a little that she basically made decisions for you too. But you know it didn’t come from a place of trying to control you.

You don’t want to think about how much she must’ve been hurting when she was dragged away to her grandparents. It’s no wonder she doesn’t get along with her father anymore. You can see all the things she has given up for you and how much she cares, and it just makes it so damn difficult to be mad.

She’s unable to contain herself, throwing her arms around your neck and burying her face into your collarbone. You can’t help but crack the slightest grin as your arms wrap around her in return, rubbing her back gently. And somehow the two of you wind up slowly falling back onto the bed like that.

You wonder if Laura has been torturing herself as much as you have since you left, because she somehow manages to fall asleep on top of you within minutes.

It’s definitely not the most comfortable position for either of you, but you don’t find it to be a problem as you finally give into your exhaustion and slip into a deep slumber.

* * *

When you wake up you’re immediately aware of a body practically draped on top of you, long hair blanketing your face.

You shift just the slightest bit, though it’s enough to make Laura groan in protest. You could laugh at how the tables have turned, considering sunlight is already cracking its way in through the blinds of the window.

“You’ve turned me into a creature of the night,” she complains.

“This is maybe the third morning I have caused you to sleep late,” you comment. “I’m sure by the end of the week you’ll be gleeful at daybreak again.”

“I’m surprised you allowed yourself to say the word ‘gleeful’.”

“It’s an irritating word and waking up before noon is irritating.” You finally notice the bright yellow pillow beneath your dark hair as you shift so Laura rolls off you, yet stays firmly tucked to your side. “When did we end up on your bed?”

You feel more than hear the chuckle against your shoulder. “Of course you don’t remember. We didn’t exactly fall asleep comfortably on Betty’s bed so I woke up somewhere in the middle of the night. I woke you up to move too, but you were barely coherent.”

“Still don’t remember.”

“It was kinda cute. You were practically delirious.”

“Glad I could entertain.”

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” she decides, climbing over you to get out of the bed. “You can take one after if you want. But if you leave your hair in the drain you will never have hot cocoa here again.”

“That’s quite the threat.”

Having gathered up everything she needs, she swats your leg as she passes you and heads into the bathroom.

On the one hand you’re grateful to have some quiet to yourself, resting in a bed surprisingly comfortable for a college dorm. The tradeoff being that you’re left with nothing but your thoughts.

Your argument with Mattie is still echoing in your head, yet that’s less prominent than the weight of the pills you can feel despite the fact that your backpack is several feet away from you. You’re not even as tempted to take them anymore.

Instead you feel like a complete idiot for getting them in the first place.

Theo now has something to hold over you, which is bound to end in disaster. You also coughed up quite a bit of cash that could have been much better spent. You feel like you’ve fucked up bigger than you have in a while, which is saying something considering you’ve actually relapsed before.

You don’t know why, but you’re drawn to your bag. You get up out of bed and unzip the backpack, reaching in and finding the bag of white pills. They roll over your fingers through the plastic as your hands shift around. It isn’t until you hear the shower shut off that you realize you’ve been in a trance of sorts.

This is the last thing you’ve hidden from her.

One of the very same secrets that drove Ell away.

The thought of telling Laura terrifies you. Though the possibility of hiding it actually making things worse seems way more daunting. You’re used to being an addict, but you’re tired of being a liar.

The door to the bathroom opens and you know you have a choice to make.

Your back is currently to Laura and you hadn’t even pulled the plastic bag entirely out of your backpack. You could drop the pills right back in, pretend you were just checking something, and she would continue to have no clue they exist.

You could mess up this communication thing for the hundredth time in the past forty-eight hours or so.

Or you can trust Laura.

She’s left you once before. But after the second teary part of her story last night, you get it. She was running from her guilt, not from you, and you’ve done more than your fair share of that.

“Carm?”

You’ve been so wrapped in your own thoughts that you didn’t hear her coming closer. She’s still far enough away she can’t see the pills, and probably can’t tell you’re sweating and trembling slightly again.

She must keep trying to talk you but you don’t hear a word of it.

“Carm?” her tone’s more pressing, more urgent and jars you back to your senses a little too abruptly.

Without giving it another thought you turn to face Laura, the bag of tiny white nightmares resting in your hand that has gone deathly still in front of you.

It’s quiet for a very long moment and you feel like you could vomit.

Her eyes keep flicking from the pills to you face and back, as though she’s trying to put the pieces together. This isn’t a story she can completely make sense of that way though, and she seems to realize that.

There are some things that she must be able to put together.

That this is something big that you didn’t want to keep from her anymore. That these pills have done quite a number on you. And that you’re utterly terrified about how she might react.

Because her hand very gently rises to yours and extracts the bag from your grip.

She cautiously puts them on her desk, her eyes never leaving you as she does. A thousand thoughts see to be racing through her head but she doesn’t seem ready to bolt. Since she doesn’t seem like she’s about to leave, you worry you’re in for yelling or judgments or lectures.

But you really shouldn’t doubt Laura Hollis.

Because instead she wraps you into the tightest hug you’ve ever received and her message is clear.

You came back to her, and now she’s not going anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Thanks to all of you for reading. Special thanks to those of you who leave kudos, comments, etc. You're all saints in my book (even though, let's be honest, everyone on AO3 is a sinner).
> 
> Just a sidenote: This unfortunately is not one of those fics that goes on endlessly. It definitely won't be going past twenty chapters, so just a heads up.
> 
> Trigger warnings: child abuse & drug addiction


	14. Between Two Points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning you all now that this chapter could be filled with little errors because I am a mess lately. And I didn't fully proofread this to get it to you sooner.
> 
> If it makes the super late updates any better: this is a significantly longer chapter than usual (largely because there wasn't really a good way to break it up).
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Come to think of it, it was probably a bad idea to sit next to Carmilla in English class. She barely pays attention in any of her classes, but since she has already read all of the books in the course she feels absolutely no need to pay attention. So while you’re trying to actually listen to your teacher’s analysis, Carmilla is bored and decides to use you for her own entertainment.

She starts by making ridiculous comments about the book in your ear, some of which are admittedly hilarious. But your teacher keeps looking to the two of you and so you try really hard to look like you’re paying attention despite Carmilla still hovering close to you to whisper.

Realizing you’re not going to play along as much as she would like, she decides to find some other form of entertainment. So she takes her notebook out for the first time all period only to draw out a tic-tac-toe board. Her elbow nudges yours, trying to goad you into playing.

Your teacher is currently fighting with the projector to bring up his presentation, and you know from other instances that this could take some time. You play along for a few rounds, the two of you having a hard time besting each other.

But once the presentation is set up and it’s time to take notes again, you attempt to do exactly that.

Carmilla makes no such effort, instead seeking out a new source of amusement. Your pencil case is sitting on top of your desk and she plucks a couple of your colored pens out of it so she can doodle. That sounds like a ridiculous thing for you to get annoyed about, but she has an awful habit of stealing or losing them.

“Carm, put them back,” you plead quietly.

“I will at the end of class.”

“You said that last week and-” you were going to tell her you know she still has some of them in her locker until you saw your teacher glancing to the two of you again, warning against the disruption.

You return to taking notes, ignoring Carmilla’s smirk as she sketches away happily. And of course she decides to push your buttons because it’s her favorite pastime.

She takes another one of your pens and you lash out to snag it back, but you weren’t really looking at what you were doing as you kept half your attention to the front of the class. Your hand accidentally nails her right on the nose. The strike isn’t hard enough to do any damage, though it startles her into dropping your pens to clatter to the ground.

The two of you forget where you are for a moment, laughing thoughtlessly as the whole class stares at you.

“Miss Hollis,” your teacher’s voice eventually interrupts. “If you and your girlfriend could behave in my class I would much appreciate it.”

You almost go off on him about how informal it is of him to speak to the two of you like that; to not even use Carmilla’s name and give her a title that is inappropriate for him to assume even if it were true. But Carmilla rests a hand on your arm and shakes her, so you just let it go for now.

You figure you’ll save that argument for after class.

Class continues but before returning to taking notes, you grumble to Carmilla. “You’re insufferable sometimes.”

“Hey, that’s no way to talk to your girlfriend.”

* * *

 

 “So…um, are you still taking them?”

You know you’re probably being unbearably awkward, but you have seem to have lost all your usual reporter tact. Carmilla isn’t someone you’re interviewing, she’s someone you care about and your questions can have real effect on her.

It had taken you several minutes to pull back from the hug you gave her, and when you did you had encouraged her to go take a shower. She was still in the same grimy clothes she stormed out of your building in two nights ago, so you gave her some red Silas University sweats to change into. As much as you felt she could probably use a nice warm shower, it also gave you some time to think.

In all the time you’ve been around her this school year, she never gave any indication of being on drugs. And you know you can’t stereotype people like that. But you’ve spent a lot of time around her recently, so wouldn’t you be bound to notice _something_? All that makes you think this is an old problem, but then why does she have that bag of pills?

Those questions kept giving you a headache, so you decided to find your phone and order in Chinese food. It’s an awkward time between lunch and dinner but you’re hungry and it’ll give the two of you something to split your attention when you talk about this.

Before getting in the shower Carmilla made it perfectly clear that she wants to discuss this, and wants no room for misunderstanding.

The food arrived just as you hear the water turn off and it didn’t take long for Carmilla to shuffle out and sit herself on your bed, back against the wall and feet dangling off the other side. You plopped down next to her, folding your legs in front of you like a pretzel with your knee nudging her thigh.

Carmilla swallows a bite of her food before answering, “Currently, no. I decided to stop about a year ago, but I’ve relapsed twice since.”

“When’s the last time you…?”

You don’t know why it’s such a hard question for you to finish. It’s not like you now think lowly of her because she’s had a drug problem. But really, you’re kidding yourself because you know exactly why you’re trailing off.

You’re worried you’re the reason behind a relapse.

Her hesitation to answer tells you before her words do. “Around October.”

That isn’t very recent, but you immediately know what triggered it. “It was after you first saw me at the club again, wasn’t it?”

She nods solemnly, leaving the two of you picking at your food in silence for a moment. She’s not trying to justify anything, and is trying to give you time for that to settle with you. You’re amazed by how gracious she’s being, but you hate it at the same time.

All those months ago she hated you for so many things, and then you showed back up and threw her back into a habit she’d been trying to kick. You were tearing her life down again from the start. Even though you two have come so far, it is awful to think about the fact that just seeing you for just an instant was enough to make her relapse.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, not feeling like it is enough yet not knowing what else to offer.

“Don’t be,” she tells you. “It’s not your fault I have fucked up coping methods.”

“I can apologize for ever being something you needed to cope with.”

She thinks about that for a moment. It’s clear she’s at a point where she no longer wants to blame you for things, but knows that you don’t think you should be absolved of any wrongdoing.

“If it makes you feel better, then I accept the apology. Just know I never looked for one.”

These heavy conversations the two of you have been having make you just want to curl up against her. You’re tired of being distant, and just want to have her whole-heartedly. She still has things to explain though, so you want to hear her out.

“You said you’ve relapsed twice. When was the other time?”

The two of you hadn’t exactly been making much eye contact so far, but you notice she very pointedly looks down at her food this time. “When Ell left.”

Your eyes fix on her profile, trying to read what of her expressions you can see. “I have a feeling that is its own entire story.”

To be honest, you’ve been curious about the blonde ever since the two of you saw her at the bar and you accidentally ticked off Carmilla. She’d only given you the very abridged story of Ell, and you had still been in absolutely no position to ask for anything more.

You believe that Carmilla still wants to give a relationship with you a shot, so you sit there hoping she’ll explain what she avoided back then.

“I was homeless and still taking those pills when we met, but she had no idea,” she begins to explain. “Somehow in all the months we were together I had managed to keep so much from her. She knew I worked at a club, but just assumed I was a server and I never corrected her. In the time we were dating I made so many improvements. I got an apartment and I stopped using. But my withdrawal was pulling my mood everywhere so I kept picking stupid fights and we were miserable.

“I was an idiot and thought we could fix things if I told her about how much she’d helped me. Really all I did was tell her about everything I’d kept hidden. She couldn’t see past all the lying to appreciate how far I’d come, and I couldn’t blame her. What I did wasn’t right.”

“And you relapsed when she broke up with you?” you offer. You’re trying to get her to the end of the story because it’s clearly a painful one for her to tell.

She shakes her head. “I wish. She didn’t want to be the bad guy by ending things. She avoided saying it, but I could tell she was disgusted by my job and my addiction. Until one night I started an argument and she just went off. Called me pathetic, disgusting, a monster. I ended things then because it was too toxic for either of us.”

“Do you believe her?”

“What?” she finally looks up at you, and you think tears might be welling up in her eyes.

“The things she called you.” You can’t bring yourself to say them about her. “Do you think those things about yourself?”

It would make plenty of sense. It would explain why she was so appreciative that you didn’t judge her for her job. And it would explain why it has taken so long for her to talk about those pills with you. She seems to carry around so much self-loathing when she shouldn’t be so ashamed.

“To her, I was a monster,” she replies, which doesn’t quite answer your question. “When it comes to Ell, I absolutely believe all those things about myself.”

“What about when it comes to just you as an individual?”

“I’m a work in progress. I believed those things, but I like to think I’m starting to be less of a shitty person.”

“You’ve been amazing to me,” you tell her, and it actually elicits the tiniest of smiles from her.

“Well, isn’t that a miracle?”

The two of you finish up your meals, and you can’t help but lean yourself against Carmilla as you do. She still seems upset, so you hope you’re providing some sort of comfort just by being close. She doesn’t protest, and you know she would whine if she wanted her personal space to herself.

A part of you wants nothing more than to kiss her. Her being so open with you didn’t used to make your heart do funny things when you were younger. You suppose that’s because you had come to expect such behavior out of your best friend. But to know you both have worked so hard to get to this point makes you almost giddy.

“What’s so funny?” Carmilla asks as you gather your garbage.

You didn’t even realize a stupid grin has probably taken over your lips. “Nothing.” You don’t particularly want to, but you let yourself turn serious again. “Is there anything else you want me to know?”

“I bought the pills last night because I was upset, but I didn’t take any of them. I was so angry with Mattie. I still am.”

You take her garbage from her, allowing your hands to linger on hers. “You are welcome to stay here again if you need to.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t just keep being mad at her. I’ll do something stupid out of spite.” You can’t argue that, she practically lives for being spiteful. “And even if she’s sometimes a nightmare about it, she has been with me through a lot. Helping me through two awful withdrawals goes a long way.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to forgive her if you’re not ready to.” You have a feeling you’re telling her something she already knows, but reassurance never hurts.

“I know,” she says quietly though she’s fidgeting with the thigh of the sweatpants you loaned her.

You hate seeing her so troubled. You feel like the two of you have been nothing but troubled for the past several days. It’s nice that the two of you have gotten so much out in the open. It’s different for you guys to be making so much progress, but in the best kind of way.

Though as good as it has been, you’ve both been dealing with a lot of heavy stuff. You’re more than happy that you two will be there for each other, but you think it’s important to have fun too. And you think that for now you’ve talked enough about your past and sisters and exes and drugs.

“Get up,” you tell Carmilla, offering out your hand to help.

“Um…why?”

“We’re going to do something fun.”

“Fun?”

“I’m glad you’ve opened up to me.” At this comment you swear she looks like the last of a burden has been heaved off her shoulders. “And I’m glad you’ve allowed me to do the same. But this has all been seriously somber and I think we deserve to go enjoy ourselves.”

“Fine.” She takes your hand and you pull her up, tugging her to the door. “We’re going dressed like this?”

You laugh. “Just because you always walk around looking drop-dead gorgeous doesn’t mean it’s mandatory.” She grins slightly, as though she doubts your logic for half a second before actually liking the idea. And at the same time she re-grips your hand to lace your fingers together. “Besides, you don’t need to look even slightly presentable to go mini golfing.”

“Mini golf? Seriously?”

* * *

 

“For a minute there I really thought you were going to pull a Don Quixote and fight that little pink windmill on the sixth hole.”

LaFontaine only laughs harder at the remark, so you shove at Carmilla slightly. “Don’t encourage them.”

“Lighten up,” LaF says. “It’s not like I don’t know how competitive you get. Do you remember laser tag?”

“Don’t go there,” you warn but you see Carmilla’s smirk and know it’s enough encouragement that LaF will definitely tell that story.

“You used me as a human shield to try and beat Danny.”

With Carmilla’s arm draped over the back of your chair you can feel her chuckling about as much as you can see it.

“In my defense, you were on the enemy team.”

“You dove behind Kirsch too, who totally was on your team.”

“Alright, alright. So I’m a little competitive.”

“A little?” Carmilla jests.

You turn your head to narrow your eyes at her, though you’re secretly very fond of her playful expression. “Hush.”

She checks her phone for the time before getting up and slipping the device into her back pocket.

As she fishes through another one of her pockets for her car keys you take her free hand in yours. “Time for work?”

“Yeah, and I’m probably going to be there pretty late.”

“Still text me when you get back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she teases but you know you’ll get a message from her later.

With a squeeze of your hand she bids you both goodbye and makes her way out of the pizzeria where the three of you had decided to grab an early dinner. You had originally planned to go a little later with LaF, but they were with you when Carmilla texted you asking if you wanted to get dinner with her before she had to go to work.

You had originally planned to ask about tomorrow instead until LaF encouraged you to just make the plans earlier and invite her. You’d still tried to tell them it was fine but they insisted. They claimed that clearly Carmilla is important to you so they figure they should get to know her. That had actually been so relieving to hear that you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from pulling them into a hug.

“I know things were kind of tense between the two of you,” LaF comments almost immediately after she’s gone, “so when did the two of you start dating?”

“What? No, we’re not dating.”

“Oh god, Laura,” they chastise. “You were already crazy for her years ago. You slept with her. Now there’s arms draped around each other and hand holding but you’re still somehow not together.”

“We don’t want to rush things.”

“Look, I know lesbians are into u-hauling and everything but starting a relationship with her doesn’t mean you’re moving in together and getting married. What’s stopping you?”

That’s a question you’ve been asking yourself quite bit in the past few days since you found out about the painkillers. There doesn’t seem to be anything stopping you two from getting together; everything seems to be out in the open. You’ve told Carmilla everything, but you don’t want to just assume she’s done the same.

And it’s not like either of you are unhappy. You still get to hang out together and laugh with each other and drive each other nuts. Sure, you’ve been tempted to kiss her from time to time. But it’s not like you have no self-control. So as long as it seems like holding off on a relationship is the best option, you can totally do that.

“We’re just not concerned about being in a relationship. Right now, things are good the way they are. And that’s enough.”

LaF is clearly skeptical as they sit back further in their chair and take a sip of their soda. “Whatever you say, L.”

* * *

 

“I thought you liked plays,” you comment, seeing the rather ungraceful way Carmilla is sprawled out in the seat next to you. “That’s why I invited you for company.”

She turns her head so you can see the sharp raise of an eyebrow. “I do like plays. When they’re decent. _This_ is theatre students parading around a stage as zombies with the occasional extremely odd musical number. “

“Then why did you agree to come? It’s not like you didn’t assume all those things when I told you the title.”

She looks at you like she can’t believe you’re so dense. Even from there it still takes a moment for it to click because you almost don’t want to believe she would come just because you asked. That sounds a lot like something a girlfriend would do, and the two of you aren’t supposed to be in a relationship.

“It’s almost the end of intermission and I want a snack,” you say, completely diverting the topic. “Are you coming with me so you can stretch your legs?”

Though you really don’t think she needs to stretch considering how far she’s slumped in her chair has allowed her to practically lay them out under the seat in front of her. The sight was a rather comical contrast with her casual black dress.

You make it to the small snack table set up, and you notice Carmilla’s eyes flicker to a chocolate bar she likes. Knowing she likely didn’t bring cash with her, you purchase the candy for her along with the cookie you got yourself. Her face brightens up when you give it to her, the fact that you two are about to return to a play she is loathing so far temporarily forgotten.

She shifts slightly before thanking you quietly. It seems stilted, like it’s uncomfortable to say for some reason. And you even pick up on it because it’s not common you hear those words from Carmilla. She usually shows her appreciation in small gestures rather than vocalizing them. You don’t think your bodies have made any contact all night though, which is bizarre.

Moving past that the two of you go to make your way back into the auditorium, only to get stopped just before the doors.

“Laura, hello!” an older woman chirps as she makes her way up to you and pulls you into a hug.

“Professor Cochrane,” you greet her just as enthusiastically. “How are you?”

You’ve missed her this semester after getting used to taking so many classes with her. She’s done a lot to help you academically over the years and knows you well, so the two of you are trying to do a bit of catching up in a brief time before the play resumes.

“I’m glad you’re doing well,” she says eventually. And only then does she seem to notice Carmilla to your right, about a step behind you. “Oh, my apologies. And who is this?”

With a grin you reach back and lightly take Carmilla’s for arm to guide her forward, feeling the muscles there tighten slightly. “This is Carmilla.”

The introduction sounds off immediately. You know that you should be tacking on who Carmilla is to you at the end, that she isn’t some stranger or even just a classmate. But nothing seems to fit.

You can’t call her your girlfriend when that isn’t something the two of you have discussed. You certainly can’t call her your friend when you realize this whole night has really seemed like a date. You asked her to accompany you. You’d already paid for the tickets. You bought her candy.

But you can’t just call her your date either. That makes her sound like someone you found on a dating website. Like you two are just getting to know each other. It seems to erase everything you guys have been through and you refuse to do that.

Carmilla gets every bit as tense as you if the way her arm goes totally stiff is any indication. And Professor Cochrane seems to notice as well, looking back and forth between the two of you.

You’re beyond grateful for the intercom voice announcing the end of intermission that leads you to bid your professor goodbye and head back to your seat with Carmilla. You two don’t as the show starts, and you don’t hear nearly as many smart remarks leaving her mouth through the second act.

By the time the show ends though, you’re able to pick back up like nothing awkward ever occurred. You’re imitating a student playing a zombie who basically pulled a left shark during one dance number, and she’s rolling her eyes like she can’t believe she hangs out with you.

* * *

 

You pick your head up off your desk when you hear the door to your dorm creak open to find Betty coming back in from class.

The second she looks at you she sighs and tosses her backpack onto her bed. “Have you left the room at all?”

“I went to class,” you mumble, slumping back in your desk chair.

“Well, that’s good at least, but…” she catches sight of the empty quart of ice cream that was practically full this morning, “Okay, we’re not doing this. Are you going to talk to me or am I calling Danny?”

“No, not Danny,” you protest even though a part of you wishes she would.

Danny’s usually pretty good at distracting you and you know she’s always willing to comfort you. But you don’t want to talk to her about how your dad is giving you grief about Carmilla again. She’s been starting to accept the brunette so you don’t want to put her in a position where she might feel like she has to defend the idea of you hanging out with her.

“Then LaF? Perry? Hell, I’ll even go find Kirsch.”

“No, I don’t want to talk to them about this.”

You’ve never really spoken to any of them about your odd relationship with your dad. The only reason Danny even really knows is because you kind of snapped at her once last year and told her she was being just like him. At that point she believed you thought the world of your dad, and in some ways you still do, so she was confused when you said it with such distaste.

You had been emotionally spent from arguing with her and the abridged version just came tumbling out.

“Then give me your phone and I’m calling Miss Short, Dark, and Broody.”

At the mention of Carmilla, you flop your upper body back onto your desk. “I missed my chance for that. She’s probably at work by now.”

As you say you realize how stupid you are for not calling Carmilla earlier. This has been bothering you all day ever since you spoke to your dad on the phone this morning.

You and Carmilla have worked out your old baggage, but you wasted time fretting over whether or not it’s too soon to go to her with anything that comes up. You know she would listen. That doesn’t stop that nagging voice in your head trying to tell you that you shouldn’t be putting your own crap on her though.

That she isn’t your girlfriend, and not quite your friend. So does that mean she has any obligation to you? You didn’t think it would matter in these situations if she wasn’t your girlfriend. Either way you’re comfortable talking to her. But talking isn’t the problem.

The problem is that you don’t just want her to comfort you with words.

You want to curl up in her arms and feel that despite all of the shit between you and your dad you still have found your way so close to her again. You want her to run her fingers through your hair as she soothes the frustration boiling beneath your sadness. You want to hear the low rumble of her voice as she tells you what she makes of the situation, seeming far wiser than her age. You want to kiss her because you appreciate her so much, and you hope for the same from her.

And maybe that’s why you don’t want to talk to Danny or LaF or Perry or Kirsch. They would have their own ways of comforting you and they could work.

But the only comfort you want is Carmilla.

“Then what do you want me to do?” Betty asks. “Because I recall you telling me you have a big exam this week and I doubt you got any studying done today. Which means you’re going to need your shit at least somewhat together by tomorrow.”

“I’ll call Carmilla,” you tell her. She was being a little harsh but you know she’s right and trying to be a good roommate.

“You just said-”

“I think just leaving a voicemail will help until she gets off work. And then she can call me back.”

“Alright. Then I’m going to get in the shower and leave you to your phone call.”

Betty gathers everything she needs and heads into the bathroom, leaving the room rather quiet except for the distant sound of the glee club practicing. It takes you several minutes to even find your phone wrapped up in your bed sheets. Once you do find it, you still wind up staring at for a moment, hesitating to call her.

It isn’t often that you leave voicemails anymore, and you don’t even really know what you want to say. You just know you definitely don’t want to say anything that will make her drive over here super late again, no matter how much you’d appreciate her company.

You wing it, clicking her number in your contacts without any idea of what you’re going to say. You fidget as the phone rings and rings, and when the robotic answering machine begins its instructions you wonder if just the missed call would be enough.

The tone sounds and you pause before speaking. “Hey, Carm. Um…could you …give me a call whenever you get home? It’s not an emergency or anything. It’s just…” Why is it so hard for you to admit you want her comfort? “I just want to talk to you about something. Thanks, I hope your shift is going well.”

You hang up and as awkward as that was, you feel somewhat relieved.

By the time she gets back to you later that night you’re half asleep but happy to hear her voice. You both agree you’re barely coherent as you’re about to pass out and she actually agrees to meet you for breakfast before your first class in the morning.

When you see her in the morning you can tell she is less than thrilled to be awake so early, even though she tries to hide it so she doesn’t dissuade you from discussing things with her. She doesn’t bring it up, allowing you to do it when you see fit. But you don’t hesitate, telling her the whole story right away.

You tell her about how you called your dad yesterday to touch base about arrangements for going home for spring break since you leave at the end of the week. He sounded so excited that he’d get to see you, and you had been looking forward to it too. Until Carmilla got brought up.

She doesn’t seem surprised when you say that. She keeps her face impassive though, simply listening until you finish.

It had been a slip-up. He’d asked what you’d been up to and in the list of your adventures with Danny and LaF and that crew, it just came out that you’d been spending time with Carmilla (which you suppose was a bit of an understatement). You hadn’t even realized you’d hit that taboo topic with him at first because it seemed so casual to talk about Carmilla. She’s become a part of your life again and it just made sense to mention her.

He immediately began lecturing you about you can’t handle being around Carmilla again and it made you furious. He can’t decide what you’re able to handle. He’s barely ever known Carmilla, and he has no grasp of how good she’s been for you. And the way he proceeded to talk about her reminded you of everything he said when he basically shipped you off to your grandparents’ house, making that day replay in your head on loop long after you hung up.

Your hands had been fiddling with a napkin, tearing pieces off of it until Carmilla reached over and linked a hand with one of yours.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” she suggests.

You look at her like she’s nuts because you could’ve sworn she’d been listening to you. “Did you not just hear-?”

“I mean _actually_ talk to him,” she says, but you’re still lost. “Think about it from where he stands. The way he sees it is that you were hurt years ago and to him it just seems like you’re involving yourself in that again. He can’t read your mind, Laura. He hasn’t gotten to learn how we’ve both changed. It’s taken us a lot to get to this point. Maybe he just needs that guidance.”

In that moment you’re truly in awe of her. She’s going as far as to give you sound advice when she could have laughed this whole thing off with a “screw what he thinks of me”.

“How are you being so good about this?”

A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. “I think if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all of our problems is that perspective is key.”

It’s quiet as you think about that.

You know it’s true. It’s why you had been able to tell the police about Carmilla’s mom. And it’s why while you thought you had done what was best for her, Carmilla thought you abandoned her for years. The actions don’t change, but various lenses can make the world of a difference.

You think about what your dad does know about Carmilla. She was once your best friend. You were devastated by a situation involving her. And now you’re back to being close with her with the risk of that cycle repeating itself.

But then you think about everything he doesn’t know about Carmilla.

She’s always been way more than a friend to you. She’s the person who makes you smile the brightest and laugh the loudest. She’s way more of a sap than she likes to admit, whether it’s with small gestures or words than make your heart pause. She’s suffered so much but sometimes you fear she’d let even worse happen if it meant keeping you safe and happy.

And as you sit there she lets go of your hand only to trace her fingers absentmindedly over your palm, to your wrist, to the inside crook of your elbow, you wonder if all this time she’s still been in love with you.

* * *

 

“Don’t you leave after your midterm tomorrow? Maybe you should give studying a break and go pack.”

“No,” you whine at Danny. “I thought you were going to help me with this.”

“I was,” she chuckles. “But you don’t seem to need it. You know more than you think.”

“Maybe, but studying with someone makes me focus.”

“We spent the last twenty minutes talking about my life.”

You shrug, pushing your books aside. “I haven’t seen much of you lately. I’ve missed you.”

A smile appears briefly before she sighs. “Actually, can I ask you something?”

“Sure…”

“I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with Elvira. But Betty said something to me the other day and…well, are you two officially dating?” You must seem stunned or irritated because she immediately tries to justify herself. “I mean, it’s totally your life and you can do what you want. It’s-I just didn’t want to assume anything.” She groans. “Nevermind, we don’t have to talk about this.”

“Danny, it’s fine,” you assure in a quieter tone, remembering you guys are in the library. It’s not one of the silent areas but you’re still supposed to be talking a little lower. “No, we’re not dating.”

“Really?”

That surprises you. Because she doesn’t sound hopeful or happy about it, she sounds downright confused.

“Yeah. Why does that seem so shocking to you?”

She rolls her eyes and puts her head in her hands. “Oh my god, Laura.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe you’ve almost made me feel bad for that girl.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why aren’t you dating her yet?”

You don’t understand what that has to do with anything but you play along. “We’re just taking things slow.”

“And you’re happy?”

The “yes” you had fully prepared catches in your throat. Because while “happy” was a suitable word at first, it doesn’t seem to be true anymore. You’d say you’re content; that if you had to choose between the type of relationship you currently have with Carmilla or not having one with her at all, you would choose what you have in a split second.

But it isn’t enough anymore to make you happy. You want everything you gave up three years ago. You want the chance to hug her or kiss her whenever you want. You want to waste days away wrapped up in each other’s arms. You want to go on adventures with her, no matter how grumpy and reluctant she may be about it at first.

“Why are you asking me this?” you say, not answering her question. But you can tell that your momentary silence was enough of an answer for her.

“Because I said that complicated didn’t sound good.” You almost snap at her, thinking this is going to be some “I told you so” before she continues, “And I said that because I worried you’d be unhappy. And now you are.”

“Look-” you start, hating that you now have to defend Carmilla to her.

“I thought for sure it’d be on Carmilla. But really you’re the one making yourself unhappy.”

“Wait, what?” That’s pretty much the last thing you expected to hear from her.

“As much as I hate to admit it, it’s pretty damn obvious that girl would date you in a heartbeat. And honestly, even I just wish the two of you would get together already because I think it’s almost more painful to watch you dance around each other. So what are you waiting for? Aren’t you sick of wasting time with her?”

Lately you’ve told yourself that you’re never really wasting your time when you’re with Carmilla, but hearing it from Danny puts it in a different light. And suddenly it all snaps into place.

Sure, you value any time with Carmilla. But if you were somehow separated from her again you would eternally regret waiting to be with her. You spent three whole years wondering what her lips felt like. Now you know from one bitter, passionate night but it’s not enough.

You know how her kisses feel when they’re desperate and fleeting but you want to experience the ones where you feel like the two of you have all the time in the world. You want everything she has to offer, and you don’t doubt she’s dying to give it all to you.

“Oh, crap,” you moan. “You’re totally right and I’m an idiot. God, why hasn’t she said anything to me? We’re supposed to be communicating.”

That actually makes Danny laugh. “It’s because you have the wannabe badass scared shitless. She probably doesn’t even realize it but she won’t make the first move because she can’t handle being rejected by you again.”

That point stings a little, especially when you figure Danny is pulling this from her own personal experience with you. But she just seems to be making a point, not holding it against you.

“And you’re right again,” you tell her. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me for calling you out?”

She seems almost embarrassed now, making a point of not looking at you so you rest a hand on her arm. “I needed it. And I get that this isn’t easy for you.”

She’s putting your whole history aside for you to be happy with someone else, and you give her so much credit for it.

Especially when she just smirks and says, “Enough studying. Go get your girl, Hollis.”

* * *

 

You think this could be a bad idea. You’re at Carmilla’s door, nervous as hell but dying to ask her to be your girlfriend even though you leave for a week in less than twenty-four hours.

At the same time you know you can’t sit on this for a week. Having to deal with your dad is already going to be bad enough. If you had to deal with this gnawing anxiousness for that long you would combust. All you can think about is how you felt when Danny asked if you were sick of wasting time with her.

You are. You’re so sick of it. You’re so sick of it that all you can think of is resolving that as quickly as possible.

You’d hurried to Carmilla’s apartment, beyond relieved to know it’s her night off for the week. You don’t think you could even wait an hour without at least explaining to her how badly you want to be with her. You’d knocked frantically like a crazy person, so Carmilla has probably already assumed it’s you at the door.

You can hear footsteps in the apartment quietly making their way to the door and you know it’s not Mattie because you would hear the click of heels. Nope, it has to be bare feet with how soft the sound is.

The door pulls open and sure enough Carmilla is standing there, an eyebrow raised because you’ve shown up completely unannounced.

You silently thank any higher power for the black suspenders she’s wearing over a white tank top as you reach out and wrap your hands around them, tugging her out of the apartment. Her eyes are wide as you pin her to the wall right next to the entryway, reaching out with one hand to close the door. You’re not sure if Mattie’s home and if you’re going to risk her interrupting you at least want her to have to go through something to do it.

Both of you are breathing heavily, standing so close together that your chests collide with each large expansion. Your hands find themselves on either side of her neck and you lean your forehead to hers, staring into her dark eyes. Her pupils are blown in surprise, but there’s no fear to be found on her face. Only anticipation.

That’s enough for you as you crash your lips to hers, both of you groaning in relief. You’re practically suffocating by the time you finally find the will to part for a short breath only to dive back in. Your tongue slips into her mouth and your hands slide around her torso from her collar to her stomach to her hips as she claws her way up and down your back.

This blistering pace goes on for what is probably several minutes but feels likes mere seconds until the two of you physically have to slow down or risk asphyxiation. You study each other’s faces as all of this settles in. You feel like a weight has been taken off your shoulders, and Carmilla is grinning wider than you’ve seen in a long time.

Neither of you are able to find words, but that doesn’t bother you.

Eventually you decide that maybe the two of you should actually go in her apartment instead of just standing outside. If Mattie’s in there she’ll just have to deal with you until you guys escape to Carmilla’s room.

Before your hand reaches the knob, Carmilla breathes out, “I think in your eagerness you got us locked out.”

You give it a twist to find that she’s right. And you don’t know why, but the two of you lose it laughing. Maybe it’s just because you already feel so light. Or maybe you finally feel like you have reached some new level of happiness with Carmilla. All you know is that you’re practically giving yourself an ab workout with your laughter, and Carmilla is laughing in a way you didn’t know she was still capable of.

That’s how the two of you wind up sitting on the floor of the hallway with Carmilla’s back against the door and you sitting between her legs. Her arms are wrapped firmly around your waist and you’ve leaned back to rest against her. Occasionally another tenant passes by and gives you a weird look, making you both chuckle.

“Carmilla?”

You hear and feel her soft hum to let you know she’s listening.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Took you long enough.”

“Can you just say it?”

“Of course I will be your girlfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks for reading. You're all fantastic, especially all of you who leave kudos and comments. And a special shout-out to those of you have been with this story the whole way and commenting! You're the real MVPs


	15. Break the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura goes home for spring break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We can all agree I suck at updating. And I feel a little bad because this still isn't exactly a lot of hollstein. This was important plot stuff to get through though. I really really appreciate all the feedback from last chapter! I'm glad you're all so excited.

“I know it’s not exactly the mansion you live in but-”

“How do you know what my house is like?” Carmilla asks as the two of you settle yourselves into your living room.

“Halloween,” you explain. “You were giving out candy with your mom. Why weren’t you trick-or-treating?”

She shrugs, not seeming completely comfortable with the conversation. “Not really my thing.”

“There’s free candy. How could it not be someone’s thing?”

“We don’t all share your sweet tooth.”

“Says the one who keeps stealing my chocolate at lunch.”

The two of you have formed an odd sort of friendship throughout the school year. Carmilla had moved to the area about a month into the year and it’s hard to make friends when everyone has already known each other since kindergarten. Not that she seemed interested in making the effort.

And you’ve always been a bit of a loner too. People aren’t mean to you most of the time since you’re generally nice to everyone. But they always seem embarrassed by you; like your love for all things fictional somehow makes you tainted. It’s not your fault Hogwarts seems fifty times better than any regular school you could attend.

Sure, you’ve spent months bickering with Carmilla. But none of it is hateful. And at least you both found someone to talk to, no matter how sarcastic that talking may be. You’re still learning a lot about each other, but it almost seems like you’re becoming friends.

“I was thinking we could get a snack and then start our homework,” you suggest, changing the topic. You notice her smirking and add, “Do you ever even do your homework?”

“Sometimes,” she says casually. You can’t imagine yourself ever being so capable of slacking off. There’s no point in lecturing her though.

You head into the kitchen and she trails behind you. You’re pulling through the cabinets when the front door clicks open.

“Laura, I’m home!” your dad’s voice rings out.

He doesn’t like leaving you home alone for much time at all, but he’s had to get used to the bus usually getting you back before he returns from work. He likes when you bring friends home so you have some sort of backup, but he prefers to meet them first and he hasn’t met Carmilla before. You’ve done this once or twice before and he’s gotten over it pretty quickly though.

“Hi,” you greet him happily, scurrying over to give him a quick hug when he enters the kitchen. “Dad, this is Carmilla.”

Carmilla gives him a small wave, definitely not being one for introductions.

He looks her over and it hurts to see him look so disapproving. “Nice to meet you, Carmilla.”

She nods and looks to you, picking up on his wariness as well. “I’m going to go crack open our history textbook.”

A blatant lie. But not a bad one for your dad to believe.

Once she’s gone your dad leads out to the garage so she doesn’t overhear. You think this is all ridiculously overdramatic, especially as he remains silent and looks at you as though he’s expecting an explanation.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, not sure what he’s looking for you to say.

“Honey, you spent several weeks ranting up and down about how rude a certain ‘Carmilla’ was to you and now she’s in our house. She got you into detention.”

You almost forgot about that incident.

“We’re past that,” you say, though you hate that you don’t sound totally certain. Because as much as you and Carmilla are becoming good friends, you can’t explain how you two just seem to click. “We’re friends now.”

“Are you sure about this?”

You know it doesn’t really matter how you answer this because it won’t change his mind. It’ll only make him slightly less likely to interfere.

And you know he’s judging her because of how she looks too. All the black she wears probably has him convinced she’s on the path right to prison. She looks like a rebel and while you don’t think that’s a bad thing, it’s exactly the kind of thing that terrifies your dad.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. But if she causes any problems, I will have to step in.”

* * *

 

Initially, you really didn’t like Carmilla’s idea of staying in the hallway and waiting for Mattie to return and let the two of you in. You were in such a good mood and despised the thought of Mattie ruining it with her snide remarks.

But the look on her face when she finds the two of you is priceless.

You’re basically in Carmilla’s lap, tickling her in an attempt to snag your phone back. She’d swept it from your hands when you’d tried to get her into a selfie. She’s squirming and barely suppressing her laughter, batting your hands away to the best of her ability.

The two of you freeze when you hear a throat clear, and you look up to see a sight you thought was only a myth: Mattie seems to be biting her tongue.

You have a feeling that it has something to do with the glare Carmilla is leveling at her.

Carmilla had told you that things were patched up between her and Mattie. This is the first time you’ve been around the older woman since your spat with her though, and Carmilla is basically testing her sister. You have a feeling that she warned Mattie she wouldn’t be happy if she gave you a hard time. Which puts the ball in Mattie’s court. She can snark at you and risk upsetting Carmilla again or she can act civil to make her happy.

It speaks volumes that she seems to be going along with Carmilla’s wishes.

A part of you gives her a lot of credit for trying even in this small capacity.

But a larger part of you is still bitter that she makes it seem like being polite to you is the equivalent of gargling bleach so you settle yourself in Carmilla’s lap and cuddle closer to her, temporarily ignoring that she still has your phone.

“We got locked out,” Carmilla explains simply as she wraps her arms tightly around you.

“Of course you did.” You can practically hear the insults trying to force their way past Mattie’s lips. “Will she be staying the night?”

Carmilla’s expression hardens slightly with the refusal to use your name. But you were expecting something along the lines of “the nymph” or “Samantha Spade” so you figure this is improvement.

Mattie just sighs and opens the door. “No need to strain yourself, sis. The door’s unlocked for whatever you decide. Just try and keep any moaning to a minimum. We don’t need that old gasbag next door thinking this building is haunted again.”

Carmilla goes to say something but Mattie has already disappeared into the apartment.

“I-”

You get the feeling there is an apology coming so you cut her off. “It’s not your job to apologize for her. And I think she’s trying.” She gives you a skeptical look. “I didn’t say she was giving A+ effort. It’s a start though.”

“She’s going to be a real pleasure when I tell her you’re my girlfriend now.”

After spending so much time wondering if you’d ever be anything to Carmilla again it warms you to hear her call you her girlfriend so effortlessly. You don’t even realize you’re grinning until she nudges your forehead with hers before sliding you off of her lap so the two of you can stand.

“You are welcome to stay if you don’t want to go back so late,” she tells you. “I’m not expecting anything of you though – just offering a place to sleep.”

You almost laugh because you hadn’t even thought of her potentially implying having sex.

“I want to stay,” you tell her. “I have a midterm early tomorrow though.”

“I’ll drive you back to your dorm in the morning.”

“You’re volunteering to get up early?” You’re probably looking at her like she’s nuts.

She rolls her eyes and takes your hand to start tugging you into the apartment with her. “I can come right back here and sleep some more after. I want to give you a proper goodbye for a week.”

“Yeah, I guess my timing with the whole asking-you-to-be-my-girlfriend thing wasn’t great since I’m leaving.”

“We’ve survived longer,” she says with a shrug and you shut the door to the hall behind you. “Better late than never, right?”

It’s stupid and cheesy but you can’t help tugging her back to you so you can give her a peck on the lips. “Right.”

* * *

 

“Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it weird that I miss you already?”

“It’s been maybe forty-eight hours.”

“You’re right. That was weird and-”

“I miss you too.”

“Oh.”

“You just had to procrastinate until the night before you left…”

“Be quiet. You were the one spewing the ‘better late than never’ stuff.”

“I stand by that. But it didn’t make it any easier to watch you leave.”

“I’ll be back in a week. God, we’re already such saps.”

“We’re making up for lost time. I can promise that you’ll be back for all of five minutes before we’re bickering again.”

“What would we be without our bickering?”

“Hopelessly boring. Have you told your dad yet?”

“Ugh, can we please not talk about him? Just for this call, can we please let things just be about us.”

“Of course, Laura.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.”

* * *

 

It’s no secret that you’ve never been one to fear authority. You haven’t shied away from speaking your mind to teachers and school officials. You once got yourself a second ticket after an officer pulled you over for going exactly two miles per hour above the speed limit and you argued up and down with him because he’d practically been up your bumper.

So you had planned to tell your dad point-blank that you’re dating with Carmilla and he would just have to deal with that.

Because as far as you see it, that’s how things should be. Carmilla’s not the monster he seems to think she is. And you can handle yourself a lot more than he ever seems to give you credit for. He shipped you away from her and forgiving that still isn’t in sight for you.

But for some reason the thought of telling him makes your stomach roll.

You don’t want him to simply deal with Carmilla being your girlfriend. As much as you hate to admit it, you want him to approve of her. You want there to be hope that maybe one day the two of them can get along. That he’ll welcome her in this house like he’s welcomed so many others. You’ll accept reluctance, but you want acceptance.

Dinners with him are the worst. He asks about your life like a good dad would, but you find yourself holding back.

“How’s school, sweetie?”

You talk about your professors and your classes. You babble on about all the interesting and heated discussions you’ve had in some of your journalism classes.

You stop when you nearly start talking about how Carmilla has been super helpful editing your papers. You know he’d find your “boobs on the ground” typo hilarious, but any humor would be lost to him the second you say her name.

“How are your friends doing?”

He laughs when you tell him about Danny and Kirsch getting caught up in some strange foam fight between their warring organizations. He cringes when you tell him about LaF nearly torching one of the science labs when going overboard with their practice for a lab exam. He smiles when you tell him you walked into your dorm sometime last week to find Perry alphabetizing your books.

He doesn’t get to mock your competitive spirit like you know he would if you told him about your recent mini golf expedition.

“What else have you been up to?”

Spending time with Carmilla.

It’s that simple of a sentence. When you’re not doing schoolwork or hanging out with your friends, you’re mostly around her.

But all you say is, “Nothing much.”

* * *

 

“I still haven’t told him.”

“Laura, you’re only there for three more days.”

“I know. It’s just a lot harder than I thought it would be. We’ve been having fun since I’ve been home and I know that will disappear the second I tell him. Because he thinks he knows you and I won’t let him bash on you.”

“Tell him at your own pace, but I think you’ll regret it if you go back to school without doing so.”

“You’re right. I just didn’t think this would be so difficult. But I tried to tell him yesterday and I felt like I was going to be sick.”

“I wish I could help.”

“Talking to you helps. Just knowing he won’t react well…”

“Are you afraid he’ll try and send you away again?”

“I won’t let him.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not afraid of the possibility.”

“I’m terrified, okay? Not that he’ll actually send me away, but that he’ll even think about doing so. That his screwed up way of showing he cares already made me feel lonely and unloved before. And that I’ll have to listen to him lecture me to no end about you when really he’s the one who needs to learn. And-”

“Laura, breathe.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Take a deep breath.”

“Okay, I’m good.”

“No, you’re not. Take a moment.”

“Okay. _Now_ I’m good.”

“Good. It’s okay if your dad doesn’t like me.”

“No, it’s not.”

“For now it is. But things won’t start improving until he knows we’re dating.”

“This sucks.”

“Can’t argue that. Feel a little better now?”

“I still kind of feel like I could vomit. You’re making things better though.”

“Well, I’m yours until one of us falls asleep.”

“Thank you, Carm.”

“Don’t mention it.”

* * *

 

You can hear the crackle of the television in the next room. Based on the cheering and booming announcer’s voice you know it’s some sport, but you’re not able to focus enough to figure out which one. The house is quiet otherwise, and it sounds just like any other night. You suppose the shouting match you’re about to incite won’t sound particularly out of place anymore either.

Taking a deep breath, you shuffle your way into the living room, your bare feet barely making a sound on the wood flooring. Your dad is already in flannels pants and a t-shirt, rather similar to your own outfit, and he appears to be half asleep in the worn lounge chair he has claimed as his own since you were a baby.

“Dad?” you call out gently as you sit yourself on the end of the couch close to his right.

He blinks a few times before his gaze settles on you as he wakes himself up a bit. “Hi, honey. I thought you went to bed already?”

“Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”

Immediately picking up on the seriousness in your voice, he mutes the television but leaves it on so the room has more light than the small on the end table to his left. “Is everything okay?”

A smile makes its way to your lips. “Yeah, dad. Things are actually really great right now.”

“Then why do you sound so sad?”

You almost cut right to telling him you’re dating Carmilla but you stall a little longer, saying, “Because I’m afraid you won’t accept me.”

It’s hard for you not to feel bad about how sad that seems to make him. “Sweetie, I’ve always accepted you. What could be different now?”

“I’m dating Carmilla.”

You note that he doesn’t seem surprised at all, though a bit of a frown takes over his features. “Any problems with that girl have never been about accepting you.”

On the one hand, you can value what he’s saying. It conveys that he is looking out for you above all else, even your happiness. And he is making it clear there’s never been an issue with you liking girls.

But on the other hand, what he says makes you want pull your hair out. He’s ignoring the real issue. And what makes you tick even more is his refusal to use her name. No one ever seems to use her name and you’re tired of the disrespect for Carmilla when you care so much about her.

Words keep catching in your throat, but you eventually choke out, “Are you sure about that? Because I felt really accepted when you were shipping me away.”

You can tell he doesn’t appreciate the sarcasm, but you don’t particularly care. This conversation is hard enough. If some snark makes it any easier you’re more than happy to use it.

“I was only trying to help. Things were really stressful and you needed some time away.”

With everything you and Carmilla have been sharing with each other lately, you’ve felt as though you’ve come to understand a lot about her. But it isn’t until your father phrases thing that way that you truly understand why she stormed out of your dorm when you told her what Mattie said to you all of those years ago.

Mattie took away her agency in doing that and it dawns on you that that’s exactly how you feel about your dad. He may always have the best of intentions for you but that doesn’t mean he has the right to map out your life according to his ideas of what you need or want.

So you borrow a quote from Carmilla that she admitted to actually yelling at her sister. “That was not for you to decide.”

That seems to catch him off guard. You’ve argued with him plenty of times before about how you can take of yourself and make your own decisions. But you’ve never said it with such confidence, as though you’re lecturing him like a five year old that refuses to grasp right from wrong. You also sound so tired because you can’t put up with his suffocating control anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you swear your jaw could hit the floor. “I never meant to make you feel unwanted. I love you, Laura. You’re my whole world.”

“Then why can’t you just accept someone who makes me happy?” you sigh. As much as you’ve tried, you haven’t been able to wrap your head around a viable answer to this question. “I miss you, dad,” your voice breaks. “I miss being able to fully enjoy spending time with you. It feels like forever since I’ve been able to do that though. It seems like we always wind up fighting just because you can’t even give Carmilla a chance.”

“Sweetie, I-”

“No, I’m not done yet,” you insist, reaching out to take one of his hands as you practically plead for him to hear you out. “Carmilla and I have worked through so much to get to where we are now. If we’ve managed to settle all the problems we had, why can’t you settle whatever issues you have with her?”

You expect him to start yelling or at the very least criticizing Carmilla or your choices. At best you expect him to simply dismiss everything you’ve just said. Instead he pauses to think for several moments, in which only the faint ticking of a clock across the room is heard.

“I heard you on the phone with her the other night,” he says eventually and you nearly panic, not sure where this is going. Tears well up in the corner of his eyes and you really didn’t prepare yourself for the conversation to go this way. “And I hate that I’ve become the kind of dad that you’re so scared to tell things.”

Seeing him like this almost makes you feel bad for him, but it’s only the truth. It’s been a while since sharing things with him has been entirely comfortable. You could even get angry with him for eavesdropping, yet with the way you were clearly talking about him you almost can’t blame him. Especially knowing he’s where you got your dangerous level of curiosity from.

It surprises you that he has more to say. “Hearing you hyperventilate because of me was devastating. And then she calmed you down and took care of you, which is something I have clearly failed at.”

“You can make things better,” you tell him, knowing you sound painfully hopeful. Maybe you should be bitter for longer, but you just want to move on. “Just please give her a chance.”

He nods, giving you a smile that seems a little sad and me motions for you to come and join him. You don’t even hesitate to cram yourself next to him in that lounge chair and curl up to his side, something you haven’t done in years.

“I know I have a lot to make up to you. But how about tomorrow we start by going out to breakfast and you telling me everything you want me to know about Carmilla?”

You can’t help the smile that takes over your face. “We can’t start now?”

“I’d rather be more awake for that conversation. How about we settle on a movie for now?”

“Sounds like a plan.” You burrow yourself closer to him.

“I love you,” he repeats, and it doesn’t seem like expects you to return the sentiment.

“I do still love you too, dad,” you assure him. And it probably means more to him than you’ll ever realize.

* * *

 

“Laura, why are you up so late?”

“I told him.”

“…”

“…”

“And how did that go?”

“A lot better than I imagined. He even wants to get breakfast and hear everything about you.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“Of course. Though your distinct loathe of cleaning might make its way into the conversation.”

“I don’t think me leaving laundry around is his biggest concern.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“So I guess this means I’m actually going to have to work to get him to accept me now?”

“Nope. You’re going to be you and he has to work to accept that.”

“You sound happy.”

“I am. Things with him still need some work, but it finally feels like everything in my life is coming together. I have you again. And now I can have him again. It’s just kind of a shame I let myself be scared to tell him for most of break. I only get like a day with him now.”

“You’ll be home for the summer soon enough.”

“True. I’m excited to get back to school though. I want to take you on a date.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I mean the only thing we’ve really gotten to do as a couple so far was make out in your apartment hallway.”

“I’d be happy to do that again.”

“I’m serious. I want to go out with you.”

“Any ideas in mind?”

“Working on it.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

* * *

 

You feel ridiculously light as you practically skip your way through your building to your dorm room. It’s finally the home stretch to the end of the school and it’s been a crazy year. And you’ve had your great moments, but this is the first time that everything seems to actually be going right.

There’s no discourse between you and any of your friends. Even Danny basically encouraged your relationship with Carmilla. You’re getting along with your dad better than you have in what feel like ages. And Carmilla is actually your girlfriend.

You open the door expecting to find Betty unpacking. Instead Carmilla is sprawled across your bed reading a book. In the time it takes you to hastily discard your backpack she stands up so you practically tackle her, throwing your arms around her neck and knocking the two of you back onto the bed. You kiss her rather enthusiastically, feeling her smirk against your lips.

“Someone’s excited,” she teases when you pull away. “I didn’t realize you missed me that much.”

You kiss her again. “I missed you but I’m also just in a really good mood. And you know what would just make my day even better?”

She does that signature eyebrow quirk. “What would that be?”

“Making out with my girlfriend before she has to leave for work.”

“I tried to get someone else to take my shift but-”

“Less talking. More kissing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, not a ton of hollstein. I'm actually super excited for the next chapter though and I think you'll all really enjoy it. I'll try to get that one out sooner rather than later.
> 
> Putting it out there: there are only two chapters and an epilogue left :(
> 
> Thank you all for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! You're all absolutely fantastic!


	16. Headrush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically Carmilla is head over heels for Laura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is awkward. I'm ridiculously sorry that it has been so long since I've updated this. Let's just say personal things kind of killed my muse and I've barely written at all for months. I wondered if it was too late to come back to this, but I promised myself I would finish it. So if any of you are still here, you're absolutely incredible.  
> Side note: There are probably an obscene amount of errors, but I just really wanted to get this to you guys so I decided to forego decent editing.

“I think you have a little admirer waiting for you,” Mattie teases as she walks you to the front of the middle school.

You turn and see Laura, who must’ve just gotten dropped off by her dad, hanging around the top of the steps instead of heading into the building. It’s pretty cold for her to be staying outside but figure she must be just fine in the ridiculously puffy coat you’re sure her dad stuffed her into.

You shrug, not really sure how to respond to that. “I don’t know. I mostly push her buttons.”

Mattie laughs. “It’s rare that you give anyone any sort of attention, good or bad. I’d get rid of her sooner rather than later.”

Her words don’t surprise you but for some reason they rub you the wrong way. “You still have to walk another block to the high school. Aren’t you going to be late?”

You both know she doesn’t care about being late and so you don’t miss the way her eyebrows raise like she’s reading into everything you’ve just said. “Alright then. Go have fun with your little moppet.”

She walks away and you almost feel relieved she’s gone. Which is weird because she’s pretty much the only friend you have so her presence is usually welcomed. You don’t like that she made you feel bad about Laura though. It’s none of her business. But it’s hard to stay mad when you head up the steps to be greeted by Laura’s smile.

“Hey, Carm.”

And that’s definitely something new. Sure, the two of you spend a bit of time around each other in school. You spend any of your classes together bickering about this or that. Lately you’ve started sitting together at lunch too, which you figured was simply because it’s better than you both just sitting alone. But sometimes the two of you wind up talking in the way you think friends normally would. You tell her about how you nearly punched stupid little Ian in your math class in the face. She tells you stories about stuff she did over the weekend with her dad.

It’s different for you, and you suppose it isn’t bad. But now she’s even using your nickname that you’ve only ever heard from your sister who you’ve known for years. It makes her seem comfortable with you.

“Hey,” you return the greeting simply, but that’s not out of character for you.

The two of you walk into the cafeteria where the students are supposed to be contained until going to homeroom and find a bench to sit on. She complaining about how her homework took forever last night and it just seems so normal for you two.

Other students pass by occasionally and say hi to Laura in passing. And that’s what you don’t understand. She’s on good enough terms with these other kids. All of who seem to be of a sunnier disposition than you. Yet she never really invested the time or the effort to become friends with them. Instead she chooses to spend her time with you.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” her sudden revelation snaps you out of your thoughts and you focus on her again. “Here.”

She pulls a book out of her bag and offers it to you.

“What’s this?” you ask.

“Friday you mentioned something about how you were bummed the library didn’t have this book.” I remembered my dad had it on his bookshelf he never even touches so I grabbed it for you.

“What?”

She rolls her eyes and puts it on your lap. “For someone who reads at a college level you sure seem to have a hard time understanding my words. Take it. Read it. Keep it.”

You probably still seem shocked as you meet her warm eyes. “Keep it?”

“My dad definitely won’t miss it and I don’t plan on reading it.”

“You’re sure?”

Usually you’re the one smirking and making her uncertain, but things are a bit different as she gives you a kind smile that simultaneously screams, “No duh.”

“Thank you.”

You don’t say those words often because rarely would you mean them. But you are thankful to Laura. As much as you two get on each others nerves, you both seem to be starting to care about each other. You’ve become uncharacteristically defensive of her. And she actually pays attention to you in a way you’re not used to. You’d commented on that book so offhandedly you assumed she’d forget within a minute or so.

You’re starting to learn that Laura Hollis always seems to defy your expectations, and that’s the day you decide you definitely want to keep her around.

* * *

 

“What made you think this would be a great date idea with me?” You know you sound like an asshole, but you and Laura have know each other long enough that she would probably be more surprised if you didn’t comment.

“Because I know despite all your grumpiness you are actually capable of having fun,” she counters immediately. “Oh, look! Cotton candy!”

Your eyes widen and the next thing you know, you’re being hauled over to the stand selling cotton candy. Laura deciding to take you on a date to a carnival already has a sense of dread building in your stomach. It’s super crowded with obnoxiously cheerful people screaming about absolutely anything. Everything is overpriced and you don’t quite understand how any of these attractions are fun. The last thing you need is your girlfriend on a sugar high.

Ever since she got back from home she has been insistent on taking you on a date though, so you are trying your best to give this a chance.

“Here, have some,” Laura offers, holding out some of the bright pink fluff to you.

It looks horrid, but you don’t remember the last time you had cotton candy so you decide to give it a shot. It’s pure sugar that you don’t quite understand the appeal of. It’s good enough though that you take some more, causing a tiny smile to appear on Laura’s face.

“Lighten up. I’m not going to judge you for actually enjoying yourself.” You lift an eyebrow, surprised by her frankness. “I’m going to make you have fun if it’s that last thing I do.”

It doesn’t take her very long to break you. First she takes you on a rollercoaster, but it’s tiny and once you two get off even she says it was lame. Then she takes you on some spinning contraption, the force of which keeps you both pressed to the circular wall. The ride itself gives you a headache to be honest. When it comes to halt the two of you wind up stumbling a bit pathetically as you exit, and that’s enough to make you chuckle.

Once she hears that hint of a rumble from your throat, she becomes relentless. You’re pretty sure she dragged you onto every ride. Most of the rides were more geared toward children and were absolutely ridiculous, but joking your way through them with Laura makes them admittedly hilarious.

Except for when she insisted on taking a video of you looking super grumpy riding a pink sparkly horse on a carousel.

She thought it was beyond funny. You would beg to differ.

You swear she’s trying to go for every carnival couples trope in the book.

She dragged you onto the Ferris wheel and insisted the two of you kiss at the top. Though she wasn’t quite as amused as you were when you tried to make the kiss a little less PG-13. She scolded you because of the children in the car right behind you guys. She protested a lot less when the two of you wound up in the fun house and she tugged you into a secluded corner hidden away from a bunch of warped mirrors. She actually even seemed rather annoyed when the two of you were forced to flee because some teenagers almost happened upon your make out session.

Then she won you a prize playing some game involving throwing a ball. You don’t really know because some commotion in the distance that turned out to just be some kid chasing his friends around distracted you. So you turned around to find Laura holding out a football for some team you only vaguely know of.

“A football?” you ask, even though a sappy part of you that you hate is a little touched.

Laura had said something earlier about how her dad used to win her a ton of prizes when she was little. You hadn’t said anything about your childhood, but Laura knows enough about your life to have probably come to the conclusion that you’ve never even been to a carnival. Nonetheless had somebody win something for you. And you think Laura knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Well, I figured it was more useful than any stuffed animal.”

“I’m not really the sports type.”

“But you can throw it at anyone who tries to enter your cave of a room when you’re reading.”

A genuine smile cracks across your face. You tuck the football under one arm and wrap your other arm around Laura’s waist, pulling her close to your side to drop a kiss on her head.

“You come up with some great ideas after all,” you tell her. And you think she realizes this is as close as you’ll get to admitting you’ve enjoyed a carnival.

* * *

 

“Karnstein,” Theo calls from behind you and just his presence is like nails on a chalkboard to you. “You’ve got an admirer. Says she’s got something for you.”

“Isn’t it your job to get rid of them?”

“I think you’ll want this one.”

You would usually beg to differ. But you’d rather be with pretty much anyone else but him so you don’t argue any further. He’s been especially smug ever since you bought those pills off of him and you hate it. It’s a constant reminder of how close you came to fucking everything up again. What’s even worse is that you just have to take all of it or he could likely get you fired.

Or just get you stuck in another meeting with Vordenberg. And you’re not so sure which is worse.

He makes a miniature production of moving out of your way as you head out the door. You make your way through the narrow hall to get to the main floor. And you’re completely taken off guard when you find Laura sitting at a nearby table. Already on edge from Theo, you stride briskly over to her.

“What are you doing here?”

She looks up, not seeming to notice the slight panic to your tone. “Hey. You forgot your phone at my dorm? Danny and Kirsch asked if I wanted to go to a bar down the road with them so I figured I’d just drop it off.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

She looks you up and down once. Twice. “Is something wrong?”

Only then do you notice the slight tremble of your hands and will them to stop. “No, it’s just-thanks for my phone. You can go now.”

Standing up she slides your phone into your hand before carefully sliding her fingers up and wrapping them around your wrist to keep you from darting away. “Do you have a problem with me being here?”

It isn’t until the question leaves her mouth that you realize that that is exactly what was causing you to feel so offset. Laura has been as explicit as possible about the fact that your job doesn’t bother her and she doesn’t judge you for it. But hearing her say that when the two of you are miles away from this place is very different from having her standing there.

To her she’s probably casually visiting you at work as though you worked a standard office job. For so long people have made you feel like your job is anything but normal, and the last girl you fell for thought you were trash because of it.

You feel like you’re waiting for her to start acting weird being in this club. Or the usual kindness to fade from her voice as she starts to think of you as some whore. But she’s seen you on that stage, and now she stands unwavering in front of you, looking at you as though she can’t understand how she’s upset you.

She’s watching you closely as you take a deep breath and slip her hand from your wrist down so you can intertwine your fingers. “Not anymore.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, and it’s as though she can tell exactly what your worries were.

“I trust you.” They’re only three simple words but for the two of you they mean so much you can see the wonder in her eyes. You squeeze her hand and peck her on the cheek. “I have to get back to work. Thanks for my phone. I’ll text you when I get home?”

You don’t miss the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Sounds good.”

* * *

 

You never thought you’d dread a movie night so much.

Originally it was just supposed to be you and Laura curled up in her bed, watching old black and white films on her laptop since you’d convinced her to give some of the classics you love a chance. But somehow this became a movie night with her friends in one of the lounges in the building. And you’re simultaneously bothered by that and happy about it.

It bothers you because, as selfish as it may be, you’d rather have Laura to yourself and not have to deal with her hyperactive friends. It’s a lot of effort for you to play nice with others, especially on your night off work for the week. However, you can’t help but feel a little amazed by the fact that Laura is having you hang out with them. She wants you to get to know them and vice versa. She wants to integrate you into her life and while that is mildly terrifying, it is also enthralling.

You walk into the building and start making your way up to the third floor lounge where Laura told you they’d be. Sure enough, you find them already being chaotic, throwing popcorn at each other and jumping around on the furniture.

Betty Crocker, who is sitting on the couch trying to avoid the flying kernels, seems relieved by your appearance. “Oh, good. Carmilla’s here. We can start a movie now.”

The mad scientist and the ginger giant both turn to look at you. Laura uses this distraction to jump off the coffee table and tackle Xena back onto the couch.

“I win!” Laura cheers, the two of them cracking up.

“This wasn’t even a competition,” Xena laughs.

“Whatever, I still won.”

You’re not the only one who rolls their eyes at that overly-competitive declaration.

The three redheads situate themselves on the couch, and you sprawl yourself out on the loveseat next to it. You thought Laura might go and join them considering the view of the television is less angled and the snacks on the coffee table are closer, but she doesn’t hesitate to plop right into your lap and lean back against you.

“Hey,” she greets you with a peck on the cheek.

Such simple displays of affection are still a little foreign to you so it probably takes you longer than it should for you to stutter out a “hey” and bring your arms around her.

You’re expecting some sort of comment from one of her friends, mentally lining up smart remarks to reply with. But they aren’t studying the two of you like you thought they would be. You know you’re not exactly their fan favorite and you came in ready for scrutiny. They’re all way more caught up in picking a movie than the two of you though.

The three of them spend a solid five minutes bickering about what movie to watch before Laura chimes in, “We could just watch Harry Potter and-”

“No,” comes out of your mouth at the exact same time as Xena.

And you don’t know what mortifies you more: that you and her are on the same page for once or the grin, not even really a smirk, that appears on her face because of it. She actually seems amused rather than horrified and it’s enough to throw you through a loop.

“So definitely not any Harry Potter,” LaF cuts in before anything could get awkward.

Somehow a movie ends up agreed upon. You hadn’t really given any input, but about a half an hour into it you decide that you are never letting this lot pick a movie again. It’s some really weird sci-fi that is beyond boring, probably because it barely makes sense. You figure it’s not just you who finds it terrible when the mad scientist actually falls asleep.

Everyone else falls asleep, but thanks to your late work schedule you’re not even tired. Waking Laura would be one thing. You’re certainly not about to wake any of the rest of them though. That would just be awkward for both parties.

So you sit there and idly fidget with Laura’s hands and chuckle when she mumbles incoherent things in her sleep.

Eventually the movie ends, and you wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for the bright white screen that the credits begin to scroll through. The sudden harsh light is enough to wake Xena, creating probably the last case scenario you would’ve wanted for the night.

She rubs at her eyes and turns off the television to get rid of the obnoxious light. There’s still enough of a glow coming from the hallway that you can still see rather clearly, meaning it isn’t hard for her to notice you’re awake.

“After that I don’t think anyone is going to want to watch another movie,” she comments. “If you want-”

“Cut the crap,” you say, loud enough Laura stirs slightly against you so you lower your voice. “I know you don’t like me and I don’t want to play this game.”

“I’m not trying to play some game,” she snaps, getting defensive before taking a breath and relaxing. “Look, I want to give you a chance. It’s not like I’m still hoping to win Laura over or anything so I’m being a good friend. And yeah I want to protect her, but I don’t think she needs it.”

“Since when?”

“Since I realized you both are way too afraid of screwing this up again. And you’ve both been through a lot. She won’t break easily.”

A small smile plays at your lips as you think about how hard Laura fought to make things better, even if all that happened wasn’t entirely her fault. “No, she definitely won’t.”

“So…truce?”

You’re beyond surprised she’s offering. You thought that as the girlfriend intruding in on this friend group that you would be the one expected to offer an olive branch. You hadn’t been keen on that idea though considering you’re still not sure exactly how she views you. But you figure if she thought you’re some cheap whore because of your job she wouldn’t be so quick to settle things.

“Truce,” you agree, though you were probably a bit lacking in enthusiasm.

She goes over and wakes the Bobbsey Twins and they all rather sleepily clean up and shuffle their way out of the lounge, bidding you goodbye on their way.

When the silence settles in you feel rather odd. It felt almost normal to be around all of them. They didn’t really isolate you but they didn’t make a production out of your presence either. They were so casual about you being around that it made you even sort of feel like you belonged. That’s something you haven’t felt in a while, and it makes you almost not mind the idea of Laura slowly integrating you into this group. Not that you would admit that any time soon.

“You agreed to a truce with Danny?”

It doesn’t come as shock that Laura’s been awake and eavesdropping.

“I consider it a precaution.”

“Oh, really? How?”

“Me not playing nice with Clifford was bound to end in an argument with you eventually. I’d rather avoid that.”

She sits up and turns to face you. “I guess that’s sweet. In a weird way.”

You can tell she also knows it’s a bit of bullshit, but doesn’t call you on it.

“Come on,” you tell her, nudging her to stand. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

“You’re not staying later?” she asks with a yawn.

“You seem pretty tired. I figured you’d want to go to bed.”

She seems to consider disagreeing for a moment until her eyes blink rather blearily. “Probably a good idea.”

When you kiss her goodnight at your door you feel like you’ve somehow wound up in some cheesy romance that you never thought you’d have, and weren’t so sure you wanted. Then Laura starts fumbling with the lock on her door and you nearly start laughing.

The two of you are anything but typical and you kind of like that.

* * *

 

“Stop fussing,” you tell Laura as you walk up behind her and grip her upper arms in an attempt to lock them into place. “You look lovely.”

“But…I just-ugh!” she huffs. “Why did I agree to your sister’s invite to dinner? Why does she even want to have dinner with me? This reeks of suspicion.”

You try not to chuckle because while Laura’s concern is fair, you’re not very surprised by it. You begin to rub your hands up and down her arms hoping it will help calm her.

“We’ve been together for over a month now and she can see how happy I am. She knows I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon so she figures she should actually give getting to know you a chance.”

She sighs as you wrap your arms around her waist and settle your chin on top of her shoulder. She meets your eyes in the mirror she’d been repeatedly checking her deep green dress in, and you can see the worry written all over her face. You’re just glad she’s being upfront about her concern instead of pretending everything is fine.

“Are you sure Mattie isn’t asking me to dinner just to torture me?”

“She might be.”

“Not helping.”

“I mean, all she said to me was, ‘If you’re going to keep the nymph around I should get to know her. How about dinner Friday? 8 o’clock. Dress nice.’”

“So this could be a total trap?”

You shrug. “Doubt it. She’s having us go to her favorite restaurant. She doesn’t bring people she hates there. If she only wanted to rip you a new one she’d save herself a hefty bill and just wait until you show up at the apartment.”

“I can’t say that’s completely comforting.”

“If you’re really not okay with this, we don’t have to go.”

You know she doesn’t like Mattie. You know how…abrasive Mattie can be. And you know they don’t have a good track record. You’re not going to force Laura into anything, but you are hoping she agrees. Because if this is your sister trying to extend an olive branch, you know that’s a rare opportunity that should be taken advantage of.

And to be perfectly honest, you think it would healthiest for the three of you to just get this out of the way and move on.

“Oh, I’m going.” You can hear the stubbornness and competitiveness rooting itself in her tone. “But I can’t promise I won’t lose my cool if she starts being all self-righteous.”

“Understood.”

She turns her head and kisses you on the cheek. “Let’s go. The last way we need to start this dinner is with your sister making fun of us for being late.”

Her nerves don’t end there though. The moment you get to the restaurant she starts acting weird. Usually you’re the chivalrous one, but she seems to make a point of holding the door for you and pulling out your chair for you. Her posture makes it seem like someone strapped a broomstick to her back and it’s like she feels she has something to prove.

While Laura looks over the menu, Mattie glances to her before giving you a questioning look. Mattie is usually pretty observant, yet it still must be bad if even she notices Laura is being weird. She doesn’t comment though. Instead she just gives the two of you her suggestions from the menu. Once you all place you order, she excuses herself to the bathroom and you don’t miss the pointed look she gives you.

That’s basically your cue to get Laura to relax, because Mattie sure as hell won’t. Because while Mattie is making an effort by inviting her to dinner, she isn’t going to give some reassuring speech to Laura about giving her a chance or accepting her or whatever.

“I didn’t realize we were dining with the queen,” you remark once she’s gone.

“Oh, please, she replies. “I know your sister thinks highly of herself but she isn’t quite royalty.”

“Then what is up with you? I get that you’re nervous but-”

“I’m fine.”

“Laura,” you say her name sternly, calling her bullshit.

She sighs and her hand finds your knee just peeking out from the hem of your black dress. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I guess I just am trying to show her I deserve you. And that she was wrong to meddle when we were younger.”

You place your hands over hers. “You already have. She’ll never show it, but in a way she actually thinks highly of you.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious. She may also think you can be ridiculous and in over your head, but she thinks you’re brave and resilient. Foolish, but still brave.”

“And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Because while she respects that about you, she also kind of hates it. Because that means you’re bound to stick around so she has to get used to you. And her people skills could use some work.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Can you blame me? People are numbskulls. Now will you relax? I know how much you love talking. Well, so does Mattie. Find something the two of you won’t shut up over.”

She smiles and squeezes your hands before letting go just as Mattie makes her return.

And you’re surprised how smoothly the rest of dinner goes. Well, you guess what would be considered smooth for the three of you. When you said find something to not shut up over you didn’t mean start a political debate. But somehow that happens. The two of them have such different ideals that they spend the entire dinner course going back and forth.

It would maybe seem vicious to most, but Laura is in her element and Mattie loves having someone go toe-to-toe with her. It’s friendly enough, and you’re content to watch it all with a smirk on your face. Dessert comes around and it’s silent as all of you power through the delectable slices of chocolate cake, and things almost seem oddly normal.

The first glare Mattie throws at Laura all night is when she attempts to contribute to the bill.

“Put that wallet back into your purse or I will make you swallow it,” Mattie threatens, and you figure that’s about as endearing as she’ll ever be to Laura.

“This place is insanely expensive, let me put in something.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you chime in. “We’ve got this covered.”

She looks like she doesn’t believe you. “But-”

“Mircalla,” your birth name escapes Mattie’s lips, and you know she about to scold you. “Do you still have your own girlfriend believing you’re barely well off enough to feed yourself?”

Laura seems surprised by Mattie’s words, but doesn’t question them.

“It’s not a conversation we’ve had explicitly,” you answer.

“But you hate doing certain things because of how much-”

“I still get paranoid sometimes as a product of being homeless for a while. It was costly to get back on my feet initially, but once I was settled into my apartment and got that piece of crap car I was making enough to live without much risk. And since Mattie has come back, it’s become less and less of an issue.”

She was so focused on you she didn’t even notice Mattie handing her card over to the waiter until he already left with it.

She huffs but you can tell she’s also relieved by the information. “Fine. But drinks on me next time we all go out.”

It doesn’t go over your head that she suggested being with Mattie wouldn’t be a one-time thing. Mattie seems surprised but doesn’t immediately try to excuse herself from any possibility of another outing. And in that moment you just feel so intensely for Laura you almost pick her up in a hug without caring that you’re in a ludicrously high-end restaurant filled with other people.

* * *

 

You don’t really know why you’re about to do this.

Actually you do.

It’s because you trust Laura, you can tell she’s stressed from her classes, and you do thoroughly enjoy making her brain short circuit. It’s been a busy week for both of you and you think this could do both of you some good.

She’s probably wondering what has you caught up. You’d finish up your fancy dinner of pizza and beer with her, and she had suggested settling in for a movie. You told her that in that case you were going to go change into something more comfortable.

You weren’t lying about the changing part.

Granted the lingerie you’re in might even be fancier than the stuff you wear to work. You wonder if the heels, thigh highs, and garters are overkill but ultimately don’t really care. You already fixed up your hair a bit and touched up your makeup. Taking a deep breath, you fetch your black silk robe and tie it up around you before making your way back into the living room.

You decide the heels were a good choice when the click of them against the hard wood floor catches Laura’s attention. Her head picks up at the noise and when her eyes find you her jaw actually drops slightly. She’s seen you dressed like this before. But the fact that you’re so clearly dressing this way for _her_ seems to have her dumbfounded.

And you do love any opportunity to make her so speechless.

She attempts to form some sort of sentence, but comes up short and only ends up making some sort of squeak.

“I thought this would help you relax. Though if you go into cardiac arrest, I might kind of miss the mark.”

She’s still struggling for any words, so in true Laura fashion she winds up stating the obvious. “I’m in sweatpants.”

You chuckle at her awkward way of claiming she’s underdressed. “I can see that. Not a problem to me.” You step in between her knees that are just barely away from the edge of the couch and gesture to the tie of your robe. “Would you like to do the honor?”

It’s like she can’t decide whether or not to meet your eyes as she lifts a hand and pulls the tie loose. After that her eyes are fixed on pretty much any part of you but your face.

The smirk on your face grows as you use your legs to nudge her knees further apart before turning around. You give her quite the view of your practically bare ass as you lower yourself into her lap and start to swivel your hips against her. Her breath hitches as your press down a little and you have to suppress a chuckle at how obviously she’s loving this. She seems to somewhat get a grip as her hands come up to dig into your waist. You let yourself fall even closer to her, your back rubbing against her chest.

One of her hands comes up to move some of your hair away and you tilt your head against her shoulder to give her full access to your neck. Her kisses are light and teasing until you push your ass particularly tightly to her crotch. Deciding two can play at that game, she bites down hard a little below your ear. In response, you take her hands in yours and bring them up to grab your breasts. Some throaty noise leaves her lips and you decide enough is enough.

You stand from her lap but she doesn’t get the chance to complain before you straddle her on the couch, your hands delving into her hair as your kiss her forcefully. Her hands run all over you but keep coming back to rest on the your exposed stomach as you trade kiss after kiss. Deciding you want to feel her warm skin you slip your hands under her shirt to rest on her waist.

Once your hands land there though, she stops kissing you. She sighs and slumps back onto the couch, her hands falling to her sides.

“I’m sorry,” she tells you.

“Don’t be. Did I do something-?”

“No. Trust me. You are doing absolutely everything right. I’ve just barely slept in the past three days because of all the papers I’ve been writing. I’m on the verge of falling asleep and I’d just rather be much more awake whenever we…”

“Hey, Laura, look at me.” She meets your eyes and tug her so she’s sitting up. You rest your forehead against hers and let your hands slide up and down her arms. I’m completely okay with stopping. I dressed like this for both of our enjoyment but I don’t expect sex from you. You’re sure this is just because you’re tired though?”

“Mostly. But also the last time we slept together it felt like we were rushing because we had no idea where the two of us would end up. I don’t want to feel like that. I want things to feel more permanent. I’m probably just being idealistic and I just feel like this is a stupid reason to stop and-”

“There’s no such thing as a stupid reason to stop. You’re right. We finally have time. We don’t have to rush things.”

It’s quiet for a moment before she breathes out, “Thank you.”

“Laura, of course I’m stopping if you’re not-”

“No, not that.”

“Then what?”

Her hands run up and down the skin of your thighs but it feels gentle and not at all sexual. “For being vulnerable with me like this. For trusting me this openly in spite of all our history. In spite of all of _your_ history.”

That hits you pretty hard. The two of you have acknowledged your joint rollercoaster of a past before. You’ve talked through it for months since you first found each other again.

But she’s acknowledging even more than that. She’s acknowledging your fucked up family that made you want to push everyone away and haunts you to this day. Your past homelessness and drug addiction and your job as a stripper; all of which are things so many people have thought low of you for. Your relationship with Ell that seemed to put the final nail in the coffin and prove no one would ever really care about you.

Laura cares though. She accepts you and she cares even when you don’t. And she’s grateful that you’ll let her.

“I love you.”

It slipped out of your mouth before you could even think about it. It’s so brutally honest that you could never think of taking it back. Things have scarcely been easy for the two of you, but you have undoubtedly loved her for so damn long and she has done nothing but earn your heart time and time again.

She looks like she might say it back before you cut her off. “Please don’t say it back.” It looks like your words nearly break her heart but she waits for you to explain as you rest your hands behind her neck. “I’ve caught you off guard. And I know how you get, Laura. You’ll worry you’re being ridiculous because we haven’t been technically dating all that long. You’ll think about people telling you you’re too young and naïve to be in love. You get so wrapped up in your head you’ll probably even question if you really meant it even if the answer keeps coming up yes. I can tell you haven’t considered saying it until this moment. So please, take your time.”

She wraps her arms tightly around you and rests her head on your chest. “I have considered it. But you’re right. I think I could use the extra time. It wouldn’t be fair to you if I said it without more than one hundred percent confidence.”

“Take all the time you need.” Those words come easily to you because you get the sense it won’t be a long wait.

You love her, and you’re finally starting to feel like the two of you have all the time in the world. So yeah, you can definitely wait for the girl who has made more of an impact in your life than you ever thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I understand any of your anger for the wait, I hope this has helped soothe things a bit. With all the inspiration coming out of season 3, I should have the momentum to finish this sooner rather than later. There's only one chapter and an epilogue to go.  
> Thanks to any of you who have been on this little journey. Much love to you all.


	17. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end. Except for the epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the bad news: I still suck at updating. The good news: one of the reasons this update took forever is because this chapter is 10k words long. So...yay?
> 
> Also, I love you all to death. You all were super sweet after my last long hiatus with welcoming me back. You rock. Hope you enjoy the final chapter.

This school year is going to be just like any other. All of the other kids are bound to stay within their same groups of friends and you try not to let that make you feel too lonely. You know your dad will humor you through almost any game you want to play or trip you want to take, as long as it is deemed safe, but you wish you had other people to share experiences with for once.

You’re tired of middle school. The classes all seem easy already and you want to move on to high school where the schoolwork will be exciting again and you maybe you could join some clubs.

Your homeroom teacher is droning her way through attendance when the door to the classroom opens and the principal walks in along with a dark-haired girl. She seems to be even more miserable than you, a scowl on her face highlighting her black wardrobe.

“Hello everyone,” the principal greets. “I’m here to introduce a new student who will be joining this class. This is Carmilla Karnstein. Please welcome her and help her get situated.”

A new student.

Finally something that may make this year different.

The rest of the class is already disinterested, back to their own conversations.

But you’ve already decided.

You’re determined to be friends with Carmilla.

* * *

“No, that’s wrong.”

“But you said-”

“I did not tell you that. That’s what you came up with after-”

“You definitely said-”

“Look, I’m the one helping you out so maybe-”

“What? I should bow down to you?”

“How about a study break?” you interrupt before Carmilla can bite LaF’s head off.

Carmilla had been hanging out in your dorm with you when LaF had frantically rushed in. For the past several years they had been putting off taking their general education literature requirement in favor of as many science courses as possible. So this semester they’ve been finally stuck with it. And while LaF is smart and pretty well read, they’ve apparently been neglecting the course in favor of their rigorous science classes. Which is understandable, but it was really only a matter of time before it came to bite them in the butt.

So they barged in, much to Carmilla’s dismay since she was quite content kissing your neck and shoulders as you scrolled through tumblr. They babbled incoherently about how they have some big exam tomorrow about several books they didn’t get around to reading. Unsurprisingly, Carmilla has read all of said books and remembers them quite well. Surprisingly, she offered to give LaF a crash course on all of them.

“Frosh, I have this exam first thing in the morning. I need all the help she’s willing to give me.”

You can see how Carmilla is still mildly irritated though. “I know but I think Perry said something about making a batch of brownies. How about you take a walk to get some of those and that way you guys can at least snack as you cram?”

They seem to realize that is barely a suggestion so they nod and leave the room.

The second they’re gone Carmilla lets out a sigh. “Well, this is going perfectly.”

Carrying your mug of hot cocoa with you, you go and seat yourself in her lap. It’s almost weird to see her in your computer chair since she’s usually sprawled on yours or Betty’s bed. “They appreciate the help. They’re just not used to needing it. And thank you for doing this. It’s nice of you.”

“It’s better than listening to them panic,” she tries to write off her kindness, stealing a sip from your mug before returning it to your hands. “And the mad scientist isn’t so bad.”

“I think they’re growing on you.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. After all, I’m not pleased with their interruption. I was quite enjoying myself,” she highlights the reminder with another kiss to your shoulder.

Some of her kisses earlier had been a little less than innocent, so you decide to play into this teasing. “Once you finish helping them you can enjoy me all you want.”

Her eyebrows arch. “In that case, I think they’re ready for their exam.”

You get up from her lap and plop yourself back on your bed. “Nope. Just a few minutes ago you grumbled about how you’ve only gotten through two out of five books they have to master.”

“That’s probably enough to pass.”

You shake your head and at that moment LaFontaine makes their way back into the room. Carmilla’s eyes are practically screaming murder at them and you almost regret testing their newfound friendship like this. But flipping the script on her is just too satisfying.

“So three more books to go,” LaF comments as they hand out the brownies and Carmilla looks like she could murder them for the reminder.

You fail not to look smug.

For the most part, Carmilla actually keeps a pretty even temperament with LaF. She seems to be giving rather thorough yet still concise summaries of the plots while also talking about themes that would likely be the center of exam questions. It was amazing to hear her talk about something she’s so knowledgeable about when you listened to her describe the first two books. But at this point you’re more focused on messing with her than listening.

Almost any time she pauses while LaF jots stuff down, her eyes wander over to you and you decide to take advantage of that. You adjust the way you’re lying out on your bed, “accidentally” allowing your t-shirt to get pushed up to reveal a generous amount of your stomach. Sure enough, Carmilla’s gaze zeroes in on the bare skin until the scratch of LaF’s pen ceases. Even as she goes back to playing teacher you notice the way her body has tensed.

You play around on your phone for almost an entire book review before LaF needs a moment to catch up with their frantic scribbling again. You don’t have to look away from your screen to know Carmilla will return her attention to you, so you casually drop one foot to the wood floor and shift your other leg closer to the wall, leaving your legs spread rather widely. The shorts you’re wearing aren’t particularly long, putting quite a bit on display for her. And you’re sure it’s not helping either of you that it’s a rather warm day for this time of year, making the room hotter than usual to begin with.

Carmilla doesn’t sound particularly pleased as she goes on to help LaF with the last book. Her words are more rushed and the whole summary seems briefer. But LaF seems about at capacity for literature so they don’t press for additional help. From the corner of your eye you notice Carmilla stealing glances more frequently, so you pull some smaller gestures just to push her buttons. Biting your lip as though you’re concentrating when really your phone screen has wound up on pictures of ostriches and you have no idea how. Playing with your hair. Letting out a small sigh here and there. Basically anything to remind Carmilla you’re there and are seeking her attention.

You know to an extent she’s probably confused. A few weeks ago you were the one who stopped the two of you from sleeping together. And now you’re all but asking her to fuck you.

But right now you’re wide-awake. And things do feel more permanent between you two. You know she loves you and the more you’ve thought about it the more you’re sure you love her too.

This is one of those moments that make you so aware of that. She’s become so ingrained in your life that she’s befriending LaF to the point she’s even helping them study. Normally you’re the only person she’s willing to help with anything. And even before LaF came in, things just seemed so casual. She came over with no premise of a date or a meal or something to do, just to be in your company. Sitting in her arms felt completely natural. You didn’t even really think about the fact that she could see everything you were scrolling though on tumblr because there is almost nothing she doesn’t know about you.

Her kisses had only started losing their innocence when you started encouraging it. Until that point she had been content keeping them soft and sweet with her only intention being to indulge in making you feel loved.

You don’t think the two of you could get more permanent without renting a U-Haul and that is the kind of rushing neither of you are looking for. Over the past few weeks neither of you have pushed toward sex or your “I love you”. And that’s what has comforted you. If you felt like you were going to lose her again you wouldn’t have been able to wait a day.

A sudden weight settles on your hips and you look up to find Carmilla straddling you.

You hadn’t even noticed them finishing and LaF leaving.

“Have you been having fun?” she accuses.

You grin. “I have. And believe you have been as well.”

She scoffs. “I think I need to show you some _real_ fun.”

“Be my guest.”

A pale hand comes down to the hem of your shirt that has bunched just below your breasts at this point, curling her fingers in the fabric to tug you up so your shoulder blades leave the mattress. Foreheads just brushing, her eyes lock onto yours and she bites her lip as though deciding what she wants to do with you.

With how you’ve been teasing her and how lustful she looks you’re surprised when her other hand cradles the back of your head and she meets your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. You bring your hands to her waist, grip firm to put less strain on your abdomen to stay up. You trade kisses until you hear what sounds like someone turning the doorknob, pausing but not quite pulling away.

“I locked it,” Carmilla tells you. “I’ve had enough of the lab rat and if they came barging in again they would not survive.”

“And Betty is at her friend’s dorm for the night…”

Picking up on the suggestion beneath your tone, her eyebrows rise. “Are you sure?”

You slide her red flannel shirt off her shoulders and down her arms until it drops into your lap, giving you better access to place light kisses to her chest. “This isn’t like the last time. There’s no doubt we’ll both wake up in this bed tomorrow, still belonging to each other. And I don’t think it’s any secret how much I want you.”

“I would hope you want me with the way you’ve been tempting me all night. Yet your friends call me the seductress.”

Hooking your hands at the back of her neck, you lie back down on the bed, tugging her down with you. “You’re the one who dressed in lingerie and gave me a lap dance off the clock.” Getting more comfortable and confident, she nips her way along your pulse. “I haven’t stopped thinking about that since.”

“Then I guess you need something new to think about.”

You think she expects you to lie there and let her please you endlessly. Especially since you teased her as though that’s all you’ve wanted for half the night. But instead you flip the two of you and go right for the spot near her ear you know makes her weak. Her hands start at your hips, taking their time traveling under your shirt up to your breasts. A small groan leaves her mouth when she discovers your lack of a bra.

“Already expected to get laid tonight?” she teases.

“Had been expecting to go to sleep, actually.” You kiss her deeply, letting your tongue slide into her mouth before pulling away. “So I have another surprise for you.”

She catches on pretty quickly as you dip down to keep kissing her. Her hands leave your chest for your thighs, brushing their way up and slipping her fingers beneath the cheap fabric of your shorts to find no underwear in her way. You smirk when you feel her breath catch against your lips, only to gasp into her mouth when she claws down the inside of your thighs.

That sets the two of you off in a race to rid each other of your clothes. Carmilla has it easy. The shirt and shorts you’re wearing are baggy and end up flung across the room. She manages to kick her boots and socks off while undressing you and pulling off her tank top and bra wasn’t such an issue. The two of you wind up laughing as you find yourself needing to put your back into tugging off her obscenely tight jeans. You nearly fall back when you finally pull them free, and you’re both still laughing as your hand delves into her hair and you kiss her again.

She’s nipping at your lip, and winds up biting down a bit harder when you go to remove her panties, hooking your fingers around the crotch of them in a way that allows your knuckles to brush against her. Her tongue traces over your lip to soothe the bite as you drag the fabric away from her wet warmth.

With all barriers out of the way, your pace slows down again to simply enjoy the feel of each other. You let your weight sink onto her, basking in her soft skin against you. Your chests expand and deflate together with every catch of breath between kisses. Legs intertwined, your thighs are pressed to each other’s cores, progressively making the two of you more and more desperate.

From there, it’s almost alarming how different things are from the last time you slept together.

It takes a while for either of you to come, drawing it out until it’s almost torturous. And you continue to take your time with each round after. You’re not just enjoying each other’s bodies and you’re not urgently trying to span a gap left by years of suffering. You’re both genuinely enjoying the company of someone who you’re so familiar with. Last time, you were trying to explore Carmilla because it felt so wrong to be such a stranger. Now you’re finding comfort and passion in the ways you two have become close again. You’re having fun, not striving to make everything so seriously sexy.

At one point Carmilla mewls and instead of ignoring it or writing it off as something hot, you laugh because she’s such a cat sometimes. She can tell you’re about to make a comment, so to startle you out of it she shoves another finger into you and the surprise causes you to make your own rather unflattering sound in response. That causes the both of you to crack up in a way you scarcely see from Carmilla. Not exactly seductive of either of you, but you think you enjoy this more than seduction.

Your bed isn’t particularly wide, causing you both to have more than one close call where you practically had to haul one another back onto the mattress. Not the sexiest thing and kind of annoying, but you grin about it later.

In an attempt not to nearly fall off the bed again, you guys try and keep it closer to the wall. Until you manage to knock your head into it. Carmilla calls you a klutz, but takes a moment to plant a few kisses where you hit it and stroke your hair. Not particularly graceful of you, but if it’s not emblematic of your relationship you don’t know what is.

By the end of it all, you’re both probably as tired from laughing and struggling as you are from orgasms.

It’s late enough that it’s about as quiet as a college dorm can get. Only a thin sheet is draped over the two of you and even that is almost too much. Carmilla’s lying on her back and you’re nestled against her side with an arm over her stomach. At some point you had gone and turned the lights off but you can still see her face faintly because of the glow of outside light coming from the window. She looks so peaceful but you can tell from her breathing she isn’t asleep.

You can’t resist reaching up and placing a quick kiss to her lips.

“No more,” she protests, though it’s practically a mumble. “Time for sleep.”

A smile takes over your face. “Don’t worry, I’m more than good. I’m surprised I actually managed to fully sate you though. Didn’t think that was possible.”

“Well, if there’s someone relentless enough to manage it, I’m not surprised it’s you. Seems you need to go for top marks even in the bedroom.” You swat at her but her other arm comes around and pulls you tighter against her. “Go to sleep. Or we both know I will be grumpier than usual in the morning.”

You think that for once she won’t actually be grumpy considering the night the two of you have just had, but you agree anyway, content to give into your exhaustion and rest in her arms.

You almost tell her you love her but she’s already half-asleep.

* * *

You’re not particularly surprised to come back from dinner with LaF and Perry to find Carmilla in your room. She’s not shy about inviting herself in, even though she has accidentally startled Betty with her presence on more than one occasion. You are, however, surprised to find her curled up in your bed and napping.

She’s supposed to be at work and it’s rare for her to fall asleep so early. You consider not waking her but you have a feeling she came here looking for you. Sitting next to her on the bed, you reach out and shake her shoulder gently. You notice her hair and makeup are still done and you begin to worry about what may have happened at work.

“Hey,” you greet her gently as she rolls over to face you, eyes tired.

“Hey.”

“Everything okay?”

“I quit my job.”

You try not to let your surprise show. “What happened?”

“That asshat drug dealer in a staff shirt must be desperate for some cash. He tried to get me to buy from him and when I said no he dumped a bottle of painkillers in my bag and kept following me around, demanding I pay him for them. He eventually threatened to ‘accidentally’ lead Vordenberg to my bag. So I decked him. Vordenberg came out in the commotion and I yelled at him that I quit.”

On the one hand, you’re ridiculously proud of her. She didn’t buy from him and she has gotten herself out of that toxic work environment. But on the other hand, you’re concerned for her because you know she’s probably worried about what this means going forward.

You figure there’s still no harm in telling her, “I’m proud of you.”

It’s enough to get her to give you her signature smirk. “For punching someone?”

“It was deserved.”

“Yeah, well. Now I’m out of a job. And ‘stripper’ isn’t exactly every employer’s favorite thing to see on a resume.”

“You could just find another club to work at. Just from one look I’m sure they’d realize they’d be lucky to have you.”

“Don’t you know how to flatter a girl,” she comments and a laugh escapes her throat.

“Why’s that so funny?”

“You must be the only person who would suggest that their girlfriend get another job taking her clothes off for forty year old men.” You open your mouth to go on one of your feminist rants about how sexuality shouldn’t be seen as shameful and how women shouldn’t be judged for such a job but she doesn’t let you start. “It’s just a joke. Please spare me the speech.”

“How do you feel?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

It’s not an answer to your question but she looks so sad and pleading that you don’t hesitate. “What do you need?”

She points over toward your desk and you see her black backpack lying next to it. The straps are awkwardly tangled with the legs of your rolling chair, meaning she probably threw it over there.

“The pills are still in there,” she admits quietly. “I shouldn’t have brought them here but I don’t trust myself to open that bag and get rid of them.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.” Carmilla doesn’t throw those words around lightly, so you know how grateful she must be.

Pushing yourself up from your bed, you shuffle over to your desk and grab her bag. It takes you a moment to unwind the straps from the chair legs, but once they’re free you make your way into the bathroom. You try and pull out any bigger items, turning them over and inside out to make sure no pills are buried away there. Once all those items are out of the big compartment you see the pile of white drugs cluttered at the bottom. You dump them out in the toilet and then you start rifling through the smaller compartments of her bag, getting rid of every single pill you find.

You know if your dad found out this is a part of your relationship he’d freak out. It’s not glamorous. It’s not perfect. It’s not part of some fairytale love story. But it’s part of your story with Carmilla and you’re not ashamed of it. You’re happy to help however you can. Flushing these pills is nothing to you yet it means the world to her. And you’re in awe of her for trusting you enough to be so open about asking for your help.

You watch the drugs swirl away before you head back into the other room. Carmilla is curled up facing the wall again, still seeming rather tired. You’re kind of tired yourself and not about to protest lying in bed. Finding a green tank top and some flannel pants you change to get more comfortable before you slide into your bed behind Carmilla. She doesn’t move until you drape your arm over her waist and then she scoots closer to you.

“I hate that I made you do that,” she mumbles after a quiet moment.

“You didn’t make me do anything. You asked for my help and I was happy to give it to you.”

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

You tighten your arm around her. “I don’t want to hear that. I would always rather help you than find out you were suffering. It’s okay to struggle with this, Carm.”

“I feel like I should be able to move on from this. But it’s always going to haunt me. I’m stuck as an addict for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, you are.” She shifts slightly and even though you can’t see her face you know she’s puzzled by your response. “But that one thing doesn’t define you. You’re so many things. You’re a fighter and a survivor. You’re a literature snob.” That one gets a chuckle out of her. “Hell, I’d even go as far as to say you’re a friend to LaF at this point. You’re a great sister. And you’re my girlfriend that I am very much in love with.”

She rolls over with a quirked eyebrow and despite how much you absolutely meant those words, your awkwardness takes over control of your mouth. “I’m sorry. You’ve had a rough day and this all so wasn’t about my feelings or even me for that matter. And I just-”

With a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head, she presses a quick kiss to your lips. “Don’t burst a blood vessel. I love you too.”

You don’t miss the smile on her lips as she rolls back over and lets you curl back up to her. Neither of you say anything but the air has shifted from when you first came in. Both of you are free of worries as the two of you drift off to sleep despite the setting sun still peaking through the window.

* * *

“I’m starting to understand why you were so uptight about dinner with Mattie.”

“You’re the one who suggested moving me back home and staying with us for a little while for my dad to really get to know you.”

“Because he’s important to you.”

You continue to mill about your room, so fed up with packing that you’re pretty much throwing things in random boxes. Later you’ll probably regret packing your shoes with your notebooks but for now you don’t care. You just want to load up Carmilla’s car so the two of you can get on the road. You’ve already said goodbye to all your friends, so the only thing standing in the way of you leaving is all your stuff. But you pause for a brief moment to go over to Carmilla, who is sitting on your bed being absolutely useless, and run a hand through her hair.

“He’s excited to get to know you. I’ve done nothing but rave about you to him and he wants to know about the girl who is making me so happy.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

She takes your hand from her head to link it with hers. “He wants to know about the girl who loves you so fully and makes you laugh. But what about the girl who needed you to flush prescription drugs for her? What about the girl who’s unemployed after quitting her stripping gig? I doubt I’m the girlfriend he had in mind for you.”

“Hey,” you say to get her to look at your face instead of your laced hands. “I haven’t told him about any of that because it is not my place, and I don’t feel that those things define you. Tell him as much or as little as you choose and I’m going to tell him he just has to deal with it.”

“I don’t want to start a fight between you two again. You’ve been so happy with how the two of you have been getting along.”

“It’ll be a bummer,” you admit. “But I’d rather fight again and sort things out than constantly keep secrets. I’m not ashamed of any part of you.” You can tell she wishes she’d been different for you, but as far as you’re concerned she hasn’t done anything inadmissible. Hoping to ease her mind a bit, you lean down to kiss her forehead. “I love you.”

A part of you felt she needed to hear that again, but mostly you just like how easily you can say it now.

“I love you too,” she replies, seeming to relax somewhat with a deep breath.

“Good,” you tell her, picking up an empty box and dropping it onto her lap. “Then would you actually help me pack instead of lazing around and watching me work my butt off?”

She shrugs. “It’s a cute butt.”

The smirk disappears from her face when you drop a heavy stack of textbooks from your desk into the box on her lap.

* * *

It’s weird being around your dad and Carmilla.

For one thing, they both treat you so differently. Your dad was ready to unpack your stuff from Carmilla’s car all by himself so you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Carmilla grabbed her own bag for the week and was prepared to help you, but was by no means about to do anything for you. She would’ve let you struggle with whatever heavy boxes you decided to take on. Your dad excitedly asks about every detail of your life since he’s last seen you. And while you’re enthusiastic to share, it’s almost too much since you’ve gotten used to Carmilla, who will ask you certain things but lets you brings up many topics at your own pace.

What’s even more bizarre is how Carmilla and your dad seem to be getting along.

You know that if he started picking fights with Carmilla, she wouldn’t stop herself from snarking right back at him. But he’s being respectful to her, and so she is treating him with an almost surprising amount of respect in return. She even calls him “sir”. You can’t remember the last time she acknowledged a position of authority like that.

“Honey, show Carmilla to the guest room so she can leave her things there,” your dad tells you once all the boxes have been moved from the car into the house.

You decide not to argue that she could just stay in your room. She can always just slip into your room after your dad goes to sleep, so it’s not worth disturbing the peace just yet.

The moment you enter the guest room, you hear Carmilla let out a short chuckle. “It’s like he doesn’t remember I spent half of my high school years here.” You give your own chuckle in response. Carmilla probably knows your house as well as you do, except for some of the minor changes over the past few years. “Though back then I was allowed to stay in your room.”

You take the duffle bag in her right hand and toss it onto the guest bed that your father seems to have already made up. “You’re welcome in my room any time. We just won’t advertise that to my dad.”

She wanders over to the window and runs her hand across the curtains tied to the side. “These are new.”

Though Carmilla used to stay in your room, you’re both pretty familiar with this tiny guest room. From time to time you would wind up relocated to here because your dad decided this or that thing in your room needed fixing and you weren’t allowed to stay in there again until he deemed it safe.

“My grandparents called the old ones tacky every time they visited. They bought those for my dad for Christmas two years ago hoping he would finally replace them.”

Carmilla sits on the edge of the bed, allowing her backpack to fall from her shoulders onto the mattress. “They were pretty tacky.”

“I know you’ve met my grandparents before but I don’t know how much you remember them. You’d like them. A lot of the old stuff you love is of their generation.”

“What was it like living with them?”

To say you’re surprised by the question would be an understatement. You’d basically forgotten you’d told Carmilla your dad had sent you away to live with them to keep you from her. You hadn’t said much else about your time there because it was pretty painful. You go and straddle her, resting your arms on her shoulders.

You like having her close when thinking about a time you were forced so far away from her. “Looking back on it, I feel kind of bratty and ungrateful about how I treated my grandparents when I was there. They were so excited to get to see so much of me. But at the time I really did not want to be there. And I didn’t do a great job of hiding it. All I could think about was you though. I snuck out and took their car one night and tried to make my way back home to see you. Their car is so old it wasn’t meant for highway driving anymore. The engine started acting up and I had to come back. They were so worried when I got back and I felt so bad watching them trying to fix the engine.”

Carmilla’s hands rest themselves on your hips and her thumbs slip under your shirt to rub gentle circles into your skin. “Did it ever get better?”

“Not really. I was worried about you all the time. I was angry with my dad all the time. I felt guilty about pretty much everything I ever did. When I eventually got in touch with Mattie that didn’t help. Things only got better once I started university. I had a fresh start and was able to pretend I didn’t have a past that still bothered me. Even then I was making all these new friends but your friendship was still the one I wanted in my life the most.”

She nudges your head with hers. “Well, now you’re stuck with me.”

“Good. I need someone to constantly criticize my music library,” you joke to lighten things up again.

“I can’t believe you made me listen to pop music most of the way here.”

“You were totally into it.”

“It was one song.”

“Sorry I wanted something upbeat. Your music was putting me to sleep.”

“Oh, please. You went nuts when Joan Jett came on.”

“She’s an iconic woman of rock and-”

“Please spare me the women’s history lesson.”

“You’re no fun.”

“No fun at all?”

“Nope.”

Her hands slide further under your shirt, skimming over your ribs. “Not even a little?”

You roll your eyes and pull her closer to you to bring your lips together. She sighs contentedly but you barely get to kiss her properly before your dad’s voice echoes from downstairs. “Girls, the pizza is here!”

A groan leaves both of your mouths, followed by chuckles at your shared annoyance for being interrupted.

Though it is for pizza.

“Let’s go,” you tell Carmilla, standing and taking her hand to tug her along. “I’m hungry.”

“I could think of better things to eat.”

You swat at her with your free hand. “What is with you and the dirty jokes lately?”

“You keep making it far too easy.”

“Whatever. Just do not make any in front of my dad.”

“Duh. I’m not giving him any reason to think he needs to give us some sort of sex talk. As far as he’s concerned you’re completely virginal and I have absolutely no idea what sound you make when-”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

* * *

You take one of the quickest showers you ever have in your life.

You don’t particularly like the idea of leaving Carmilla alone with your dad for very long. As much as you try to be rational, there’s a petty voice in your head making you worry all their hate for each other over the years will boil back to the surface and they’ll wind up fighting. And even if you’re lucky and they are getting along alarmingly well, you’re sure your dad will find a way to dig up embarrassing stories about you that even Carmilla is yet to know.

So you barely even dry yourself off before throwing on some pajamas and rushing out of the bathroom. Only a couple of steps down the hallway you hear the two of them talking from the kitchen, and your curiosity stops you in your tracks.

“Are you telling me this just to mock me? Are you just trying to give me more reasons to worry about my daughter dating you?”

“No, I’m telling you this because I believe you deserve to know exactly what kind of person your daughter is dating.” You know that tone in Carmilla’s voice. The grit teeth when she is trying to be open for once but is getting close to losing her patience. “You think I’m proud of these things? Do you think I like talking about my drug problem and how I lost my job as a stripper? I know you already don’t like me. Do you really think I want to make things worse just for my own enjoyment?”

It’s quiet for a long moment before your dad speaks again. “My apologies. I’m sure those things haven’t been easy for you. It’s just-she’s…I just…”

“You want to keep her safe and happy. And you’ve never thought I’m capable of giving her that.”

“To be fair, as her father I’ll never think anyone is.”

“But she can make her own choices. And for reasons I often can’t even understand, over years of ups and downs she still chooses me.”

You know that coming from Carmilla, what she’s saying is less of a reflection of your choices and more of a reflection of how little she thinks of herself. You always do what you can to try and make her realize how amazing she is, almost to a fault, but you know that is ultimately a conclusion she will slowly have to come to on her own. You can only influence that so much.

It simultaneously does and doesn’t surprise you that she would admit such a thing to your father. Because she would probably love for him to simply think the world of her so he would get off her back. But at the same time you think a part of her wants to prove herself. You can’t think of an adult figure in her life that hasn’t thought low of her and so it’s almost therapeutic to her to prove one wrong in their assumptions about her.

Your dad chuckles just the slightest bit and even though you can’t see either of their faces as you remain hidden in the hall, you’re sure Carmilla is giving him a strange look.

“What?” She’s getting defensive again, her tone nearing snappish.

“It’s ironic,” he explains. “I never used to be able to understand why she chose you either. The brooding, angry girl who landed her in her first detention and spoke with more biting sarcasm than anyone she’d ever met. I didn’t understand how she would continue to choose someone whose problems kept roping her in and causing her such distress. But I get it now.”

“I’m not following.”

“When the two of you were younger I started to wonder if something was off at your house. What with all the nights you’d spend here. And I know you snuck in and out on more than one occasion. And just in general nothing but my daughter seemed to make you smile. I apologize for that. I was so wrapped up in how your family issues would affect Laura that I didn’t think about how much you may have needed help.”

“No need to apologize. I blame no one but my mother. I’m still not seeing your point though.”

You agree with Carmilla. You have no idea where he’s going with this. You know him well enough to believe it’s going in a positive direction but don’t want to get your hopes up.

“I suppose you don’t get to hear the way Laura talks about you on the phone to me now. She gushes to me about whatever date the two of you went on and how much you made her laugh. She tells me she’s really stressed out about a paper but that it’s okay because you’re coming over to keep her company and proofread it. And those are things a father wants to hear about his daughter’s significant others.”

“I-”

“And that is my point. Despite everything you’ve dealt with, you’ve turned out to be the kind of woman who makes my daughter truly happy. You may still have your own issues, but I’m learning that Laura loves you in spite of them. She wants to help even if it hurts because that’s the kind of person she is. The two of you deserve to choose each other without my interference. And for what it’s worth, I’m starting to believe Laura was always right to pick you.”

“Thank you, sir.” You doubt your dad picked up on the slight choke in Carmilla’s voice but you don’t miss it.

“In the past I believed I needed to keep your issues away from Laura, and so I didn’t want you in this house. But I want you to know that you are always welcome here. And I want you to know that this time I am here to understand and help both of you.”

“That means more than you know.”

“Do me a favor and go check on Laura. I thought I heard the water turn off a while ago. Knowing her she probably got sidetracked with something.”

“Most likely.”

You scurry back to your room as quickly and quietly as possible. Dashing to your desk, you throw yourself into the chair and open up your computer, pulling up your email to make it seem like you were just checking a few things.

Carmilla enters your room and walks over, wrapping her arms around you from behind and resting her chin on your shoulder. You turn your head just enough to peck her on the cheek and notice her eyes are slightly wet.

“Hey,” you greet her.

“You don’t have to pretend you weren’t eavesdropping on me and your dad.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Well, I definitely heard footsteps stop outside the kitchen. So unless someone else broke in who was very interested in hearing that conversation-”

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I kind of expect the nosiness from you at this point.”

“Am I really that bad?”

“Are you kidding? You _loathe_ not knowing things. Just last week you were prepared to launch an investigation into why the dining hall on campus didn’t have cookies with the dessert section anymore.”

She drops her arms to sit on your desk, taking one of your hands in hers to absentmindedly play with your fingers. She doesn’t look very comfortable, still in her tight black jeans and a grey zip-up vest. Her hair is pushed back like she’s been running her hands through it, a habit of hers when she’s tired or stressed.

“So I guess my dad finally approves of us,” you break the silence.

She sighs. “It’s weird. I stopped searching for approval from parents a long time ago. It’s not like I wanted my mother’s after a while. But it actually feels…kind of nice.”

You bring your other hand up to place it on top of hers. “And you know I love you, right? And I never regret choosing you.”

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips and you know it’s relieving for her to hear. “I never regret choosing you either.”

You stand, leaving your hands stacked and kiss her on the forehead. “You look exhausted. Go get changed so you can go to bed. Are you sneaking into here tonight?”

She laughs. “I think after that I’ll respect your father’s wishes for at least one night.”

“Alright. Then get going.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

You wake up surprised by how cold it is in your room. It’d been a warm night so you’d left your window open for fresh air but you suppose the temperatures dropped drastically as the night wore on, not uncommon for this time of year as spring begins to fade into summer.

Getting out of bed you realize especially how cold your bare feet are as you pad your way over to the window. You close it but it’s still far too cold for you to go back to sleep. You could grab the extra blankets stored away in your closet and cocoon yourself in them. You have a nice warm girlfriend just across the hall you can cuddle up to though, so you barely even consider returning to your bed.

Out of the four nights Carmilla has been here so far, she’d only stayed in her room the first night. Every other time she came wandering into your room after your dad fell asleep. You get the feeling he knows she’s been doing this anyway, but for whatever reason is letting it slide.

It might be because he and Carmilla are getting along frighteningly well. You say frighteningly not just because you didn’t expect it but also because them getting along well means your dad telling Carmilla every baby story about you and the two of them constantly teasing you. You take it all happily though because this is ultimately what you’ve always wanted: you and Carmilla in love and your dad supporting the two of you.

Them getting along has also made Carmilla very respectful of him.

After all, she decided to sleep in the guest room because you tried to seduce her and she claimed she refused to defile your childhood bedroom with your father attempting to sleep right next door. Especially because she knows the walls in your house aren’t insulated well. You’d gotten both of you all worked up though, and she knew if she stayed she wouldn’t be able to resist. You let her go be innocent because you found it adorable and comical that despite the seductress in her she’s trying to be so pure.

You slip into her room and when you shut her door it’s pitch black. Knowing the room well enough, you make it to the bed without hazard and climb in. You roll to seek out Carmilla only to find empty space. Groggy and confused, you get up and go to turn on the light. Unsure if you’re just confused in your sleepy state, you scan the room twice. She’s nowhere to be found.

You could just get back in bed and wait for her to return from the kitchen or the bathroom or wherever, but now you’re getting needy. You want her body heat and softness and don’t want to wait for it. So you decide to go track her down and drag her back to bed. Quickly you begin to realize something isn’t right. You become suspicious when she isn’t in the bathroom, and even more concerned when she isn’t in the kitchen. The thought that she may have left the house enters your mind but that seems ridiculous so you start checking every room, even the garage. And she isn’t in a single one of them. You check the backyard in case she’s being her typical broody self and wandering outside to look at the stars and contemplating the universe. You even look up to the roof to make sure she’s not being extra philosophical and needing to get closer to the stars.

It becomes evident she’s nowhere on the premises.

Her car is still in the driveway though, meaning she wouldn’t have gone very far. You’re frustrated with her for walking anywhere alone when it’s this late and cold without even telling you. More importantly, you’re wondering where the hell she is and worried if she’s okay. Not so much because of the cold or any danger, but because something caused her to leave in the first place.

You know she’s the type to take a walk just to clear her head and that provides some comfort.

For whatever reason, you doubt that’s the case here.

Why would she leave though? It’s not like she got in a fight with you or your dad. You suppose there’s a chance she ended up on the phone with her sister and they argued but they rarely call each other at night; they know it’s dangerous to wake each other up from a peaceful slumber. Something could have triggered addiction urges again. And that deeply concerns you. Not because you’re worried she’ll find some pills and relapse, but because you know how much that drains her and how angry she gets with herself. Other possibilities begin to flood your brain and you know you’re incapable of just sitting here.

Running back into the house, you throw on some warm clothes and grab her car keys. You begin driving aimlessly around town, hoping you’ll happen across her. You try to think of anywhere she might go but there were never many places she liked around here. Then you recognize that it’s foolish to solely think she may go somewhere she likes. And that gives you a pretty good guess of where she may have gone.

It takes you less than a minute to make it to her old house. And sure enough, she’s standing outside of it.

She’s in the street, looking up at the place she used to live. The place where she was abused for years. The place where your heart broke for her almost every time you visited. The place you always wanted to rescue her from. The place where she almost died.

You park on the side of the road across from there and get out, slowly making your way over to her. The mansion is completely abandoned. Rumors flew around about what happened with Carmilla’s family there so no one has wanted to do anything with the property. All of their old furniture probably even remains.

You hate to interrupt her but the same time it kills you to see her here when you know it can’t be bringing any good memories to mind. You don’t make any move to touch her, simply approaching to stand beside her, just in her peripheral vision.

She doesn’t speak right away, but she notices your presence and lifts her arm so that you tuck yourself into her side and let her tug you close.

“I considered breaking in,” she says quietly after a moment. It’s almost a whisper but amongst the quiet night it practically echoes. “I don’t think I want to do that to myself though. The first thing I’d see when I walk in…”

She trails off but you find yourself finishing her thought for her, because it mirrors your own. “Would be the bottom of the staircase where you almost died in my arms.”

With your head against her neck you feel her swallow heavily. “When I was mad at you in the past few years I never thought about how awful that must’ve been for you. How awful it must’ve always been to witness the ways my mother would hurt me and not be able to do anything about it. Mother always made me feel powerless. And I took away your power by asking you to keep quiet. By begging you not to be yourself and do what was right. I’m sorry.”

“Never do that again,” you warn her. Your eyes are still fixed on the house as she tilts her head to look at you. “I don’t mean never ask that of me again. Yeah, that was horrible but I get why you did it. I mean don’t ever compare yourself to your mother again. You are nothing like that monster.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“How much do you even remember of that night?”

“Almost nothing. It’s all vague knowledge but no concrete memories. I know you were there that night, but didn’t know I had been dying in your arms at the bottom of that staircase until now.”

“I had climbed into your room that night. You came in with a busted wrist and bleeding somewhere on your torso. You didn’t want to see me because you told me you loved me almost two weeks earlier and I handled it by avoiding you. I had shown up to tell you that I wasn’t sure if I was in love with you, but I definitely felt something for you. But I was also going to tell you that nothing more could happen between us for the time being.”

Sensing the way you’re beginning to lose your composure a bit, she wraps her other arm around you as well and says quietly, “You don’t have to tell me any of this.”

You shake your head. “I want to. I don’t talk about it with anyone. And whenever I think about that night or any of the tougher memories from our past all those confusing, painful emotions still come bubbling up. I couldn’t let anything more happen between us because I couldn’t invest myself in you anymore than I already had. Not without reporting your mother. It was excruciating watching her torture my best friend. I knew I wouldn’t be able to watch her do that to the girl I was in love with. To the girlfriend who I know would’ve been tender and attentive with me while still making me laugh.

“I knew I couldn’t handle it. But then she threw you down those stairs and I realized it wouldn’t have mattered. Just because we weren’t a couple didn’t mean I didn’t feel for you as intensely as I would have. And just because I hadn’t thought a lot about whether or not I was in love with you or said it to you didn’t mean I wasn’t. I already cared far too much about you and already couldn’t handle how she was treating you. And when I found out you lived, this dark little part of me almost believed that night to be a blessing in disguise. Because, despite every bad thing about it, it got you away from her. And what I always wanted more than anything was for you to be safe.”

You hadn’t realized you were tearing up until you finally look at Carmilla and see her eyes are damp. You throw both of your arms around her, and you cling to each other for a long time. That house holds so many awful memories and yet it is somehow healing to be here facing them. And you figure that’s why Carmilla was drawn to come here. It’s like finally putting the past to rest.

“I used to think this house never really haunted anyone but me,” she mumbles eventually. “Will was never punished because he was such a suck-up. Mattie was the victim of some mind games but she got out of there easily enough. And I guess because Maman never really went after you directly it just never crossed my mind that it would haunt you. I’m so grateful you happened across me in that club though. Because you’re the only person who has ever cared so much about me. And now I can tell you I love you and neither of us has to worry anymore.”

“Can we stay here for a little while longer?”

She pulls back a bit to see your face, clearly puzzled since this hadn’t even been your idea. “You want to?”

“At first this felt tragic and solemn and was just a horrible reminder of everything that went wrong. But I’m starting to feel almost triumphant.”

“Triumphant?”

“Yeah. I mean, look at us. We’re together and happy and living a life we didn’t think would be possible when this was your house. We didn’t just survive. I’m so proud of us.”

It’s obvious she hadn’t thought about things that way, but she quickly warms up to the thought as a smile breaks across her face.

This is the most free you’ve ever felt here. When you two were younger existing in this space at all was dangerous. Even when Carmilla’s mother wasn’t home it was still like walking on thin ice. Leaving the wrong thing out of place could lead to some punishment for Carmilla later. The more you think about the new lack of consequences here, the more you want to do something ridiculous for the hell of it. So you just go with the first random thing that comes to mind.

Stepping away from Carmilla, you jab her lightly in the side. “Tag. You’re it.”

She looks at you like you’re nuts. “What?”

“Now you have to catch me,” you explain the obvious as you keep moving away from her.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

With that you dart off toward the backyard. For a split second you’re disappointed, thinking she won’t just let loose and join you. Then you hear her footsteps picking up the pace behind you, letting you wear a goofy grin as you narrowly avoid running straight into some weird gargoyle statue.

You didn’t spend a lot of time in Carmilla’s yard when you were younger and the darkness doesn’t make navigation any easier, but the extra challenge makes things interesting. It’s so bizarre to be playing a childish game of tag with your broody girlfriend around a house that haunts you both in the middle of the night. It’s oddly exhilarating though and quickly becomes one of the most fun memories you have with Carmilla.

You trip on some loose stones of the old patio and are sent sprawling, scraping your hands to break your fall. Carmilla was close enough to catch you that she doesn’t have time to stop, tripping over you and falling in a similar fashion. You laugh as Carmilla grumbles about the stinging at the heels of her hands.

Finding her hands in the dark, you kiss the scrapes. “ _These_ are the kinds of injuries kids are supposed to get. And as happy as I am with where we are now, I still wish that could’ve been your reality instead of the one your mother gave you.”

She simply kisses you in reply and leans your foreheads together. You worry you’ve killed the moment and made things too serious again when a finger taps your nose.

“You’re it,” she says before fleeing.

She decides to get back at you for scaring her, hiding behind some bushes only to pop out at you as you nearly charge right by her. You shriek at a pitch you didn’t know you were capable of, sending you both into a fit of laughter.

You continue this back and forth game, crashing through everything from tree branches to old broken flower pots as you go. At one point you even accidentally knock over an overflowing birdbath, soaking both yours and Carmilla’s shoes. You don’t think you stop laughing the entire time, or at the very least a smile never leaves your face.

The sun begins to rise and though you would be happy to keep this up all day, you got almost no sleep and are starting to feel it. You’re currently it, but when you reach Carmilla, who seems to be fading as well, you jump onto her back instead of tagging her. You don’t have to tell her you’re tired, she just seems to get it and lets you stay on her back as she brings the two of you to her car.

The drive back is quiet, opting to have your hand fidget with Carmilla’s free one on top of the center console instead of talking. It’s a brief but peaceful ride, the roads devoid of any other cars and no one stirring inside or outside of their houses yet. The sun goes from a faint glow to bathing the morning in golden light.

You park in your driveway and look over to Carmilla and it’s the first time you’ve really been able to see her clearly since you started your game of tag. She looks like a mess and you’re sure you don’t look any better. A layer of dirt coats her clothes that are wet in certain spots. Small cuts and scrapes stand out against her pale skin and her hair is tousled with tiny pieces of tree branch tangled in.

She catches you staring and grins, lifting your intertwined hands to her lips and turning them so she can kiss the scrape on the heel of your hand.

With that, the two of you climb out of the car and make your way into the house. You know your dad won’t be awake for another few hours so you tug Carmilla along to your room.

You shed your clothes except for your underwear so you don’t get dirt all over your bedding, and Carmilla follows suit. Sliding into your covers, you motion for her to join you. You know if your dad finds you like this later he won’t be pleased, but you decide you’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now you just want to curl up to your girlfriend and rest your head on her chest, letting the rise and fall of her breathing lull you to sleep.

“Goodnight, Carm.”

“Goodnight.”

“Or I guess it’s technically good morning. I mean-”

“Laura?”

“Yeah?”

“Just get some rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue won't be very long, probably only around 2k. So I hope you all liked this. I'll post my sappier parting words in the notes with the epilogue. Thanks again for all the kudos, comments, etc. so far.


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